#I heard Darius gets tortured more

[staledirt87]

Ayo does anyone know where to watch the 2nd season of Salvation for free? Pluto only has the first season.

[geode-crystal]

@whumperofworlds this one is for you!

Characters involved:

Whumpee: Darius, "the Shining Knight"

Caretaker: Mianu, "the Lost Prince."

Some random Whumper idk

Contents: kidnapping, restraints (chains), a little bit of torture, a little bit of blood, a whole lot of angst

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The prince’s quest was noble. No one could deny that. Noble, but very, very dangerous. And Darius had sworn—both to his prince and to himself—that he would protect Mianu with his life.

Prince Mianu’s self-assigned mission was meant to be kept secret. His identity was meant to be secret. No one, aside from those who needed to, was supposed to know he had even left his kingdom. It didn’t matter that he was still trying to set right what had once gone wrong. They were all aware of the risks. Of what might happen if someone found out he was royalty.

Darius was never going to forgive himself when he got out of this.

If he got out of this.

The first thing Darius had done when he was alert enough to be fully aware of his situation was fight against his chains.

This was a living nightmare.

Everything that had led to his capture came back to him in a rush. It had all been too simple. Too easy. He was supposed to be better than this. But a simple ambush had been all that it took. He’d allowed himself to get distracted. He’d been naive enough to let Mianu wander a few feet out of his sight. And he’d been jumped. Just like that.

Darius had put up a fight. But it wasn’t enough. All too soon, the world had gone dark.  

And now… here he was. Chained in enemy territory. No armor. No weapon.

Darius had been through a lot in his life. But had never felt so exposed and vulnerable.

He had to get out of there before anything else happened.  

His training ran through his mind. Don’t make any noise, don’t alert the enemy to your presence… but the enemy already knew he was here. Hells, they put him here. Find something to use to your advantage… but the tiny, dark room he had been thrown into was completely empty. And his hands were chained high above his head. Of course, there were cuffs around his ankles, too, despite being dumped awkwardly on the floor, left on bruised knees. He could barely move, let alone investigate.

Really, guard training had much more to say about avoiding getting into these situations than what you should do to get out of them.

He would have to complain about that later.

“Oh, good. You’re awake. I was starting to think my crew had been too rough on you.”

Darius went rigid. He’d never heard that voice before, but he knew that tone too well. His eyes quickly scanned the little room. Nothing. It looked empty. Felt empty.

Darius hissed out a rather un-knightly word. Magic. The one thing he couldn’t defend against.

“Who are you?” he shouted. “Show yourself!”

He could have sworn his captor was smirking. “Well, if you insist.”

There was a soft sound, like a curtain being drawn. And then someone stood before him. Nearly towering over him. A bandit or a mercenary, by the looks of her clothing and the dagger at her belt. A successful one at that. She was practically littered with rings, her belt embedded with gemstones. A pendant with a golden chain dangled from her hand.

Darius’ breath caught in his throat.

That was his pendant. The one that Mianu had given him. One of a matching pair, enchanted so they could keep in contact even if they were apart. So they could find each other when they needed to.

Seeing it in that woman’s hands made his blood boil.

“Who are you?” Darius snapped.

The mercenary raised an eyebrow. “You’ve used that one already. I’d hoped a royal knight would be more versed in the art of conversation than that.”

No. No. This wasn’t just some random kidnapping. She knew exactly who he was.

“Whatever it is you want, you’re not going to get it,” Darius said as firmly as he could.

But how? They’d been so careful not to be recognized...

The woman made a soft sound, almost a laugh. “Alright. I’ll play along. What, exactly, makes you think I want something from you?”

Dread seeped into Darius’ heart. He refused to let it show. He glared daggers at his captor, surging against his bonds as though he could break free by sheer force of will. His wrists were definitely mangled at that point. He didn’t care.

“If you wanted me dead, I would be by now,” he hissed. “You’ve had plenty of chances.”

“True.” The woman still spoke as though they were chatting about dinner. “But I have something else in mind.”

She took a single step forward. Darius stayed frozen, torn between trying to back up and trying to lunge forward again. He knew both options were stupid and pointless, anyway. But he wanted to do something. Anything, to try to get out of this, to try to get back to Mianu before his captor did something much worse than just knocking him out and chaining him up…

But the woman only dangled the pendant in front of him. The deep emerald in the center shone, even in the dark room.

“What a fancy little toy you have,” the woman sneered. “Not something an ordinary knight carries around, hmm?”

All of his instincts told him to turn away. To hide. But Darius refused to back down. He couldn’t show any weakness. Not now.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” he lied.

The gemstone flashed again.

The woman rolled her eyes. “Please. I daresay I know more about magic than the likes of you. Which is exactly why I need your darling little prince.”

Darius couldn’t keep his expression steady this time.

This was exactly what he’d been afraid of.

“What did you do with him?” Darius’ voice was far too soft for his own comfort.

And the woman had the gall to laugh. “Nothing. Not yet, anyway.” 

“If you’re expecting me to help hurt him—”

“No need to worry yourself over that,” the woman cut him off. “No harm will come to him. Or you, for that matter, as long as you both behave.”

“I will never do what you ask,” Darius snapped.

The woman’s smile was heartless. Sickening. “No need to be so modest. You’re already playing your part wonderfully.”

And abruptly, Darius understood.

Whoever this woman was, she didn’t have Mianu. But she needed him. Everything had been a trap... but for Mianu. Darius was only the bait.

He’d rather die than get Mianu mixed up in this madness.

“It won’t work,” he said firmly. “Whatever you want, he’ll never give into your demands.”

“Won’t he?”

The woman’s tone was still cool. Confident. She was utterly convinced she had already won.

“We’ve all seen how… fond the poor little lost prince is of his dashing knight,” she went on. “Hard to blame him. What a handsome face.”

She gripped his chin, twisting his head this way and that. Darius jerked free.

“Whatever sick game you’re playing—”

“Oh, enough,” the woman snapped. “Don’t you have anything better to say? Besides, we don’t need him, really. Just his magic. I’ve heard the princeling has a certain affinity for working in the shadows.”

Darius’ heart could have stopped beating and he wouldn’t have noticed.

“No… no,” he choked out. “He won’t—you can’t.”

He struggled against his chains again, knowing full well it was useless. He didn’t care. He couldn’t let Mianu use that dark magic again. Mianu had sworn he would never call on the shadows again. The magic was powerful, but dangerous. Incredibly dangerous. Mianu had almost lost an arm to those dark powers. He’d nearly lost himself. If he fell into that darkness again…

Darius couldn’t lose him. Not like that.

“You can’t make him use that magic,” he said almost desperately. “I won’t let it happen.”

“That is not for you to decide,” his captor snapped.

She straightened up, holding the pendant closer. It kept flashing. Mianu was desperately trying to contact his knight. And the mercenary knew it.

“Let’s send him a little message, shall we?” she smirked.

She ran her thumb over the face of the gem. And instantly, the flashing changed to a solid glow. Mianu’s voice filled the air.

“Darius? Darius, are you there? Where are you? What happened?”

“Good evening, little prince,” she said with a smirk.

The panic and desperation in his voice made Darius’ heart fracture. But he stayed silent. It was the only weapon he had.

Of course, his captor had other plans.

Mianu’s reply was instant. “Who are you? How did you get his pendant? What did you do to him?”

“Oh, don’t worry,” said the mercenary. “He’s right here with me. I promise he’s all in one piece. And if you want him to stay that way, then you’ll come and meet us. Alone.”

“Prove it,” Mianu demanded. “Prove that he’s there. Alive.”

The silence from the pendant was deadly.

Then...

The woman shrugged. “A reasonable request. Darius, dear, won’t you say ‘hello’ to your prince charming?”

If glares could kill, the woman would have fallen on the spot. But Darius said nothing.

The woman sighed. “Have it your way, then.”

There was a brief flash of light. A single whispered word. Darius had no idea what spell hit him. But it felt like a knife slicing right into his side. It must have made a seeious cut. He could feel the sting of it. Could feel the blood slowly soaking his tunic.

But aside from a quick gasp, far too soft for the pendant to pick up, he made no sound.

The woman clucked her tongue, as though chiding a small child. “You’re only making this more difficult for yourself, you know.”

Darius still said nothing. Not aloud. But in his heart, he screamed out, as though Mianu could hear his silent prayers.

Don’t listen to her, Mianu. Just run. Don’t let her get to you. It doesn’t matter what she does to me, as long as you’re safe…

His captor scowled. She closed the distance between them in a few strides. And she kicked him, hard. Right in the gash she had just made under his ribcage.

Darius screamed. He couldn’t help it. The cry was forced from him as easily as the air was forced from his lungs.

Mianu swore. “Darius! Just hold on. I’ll find you. I’ll get you out of there, I promise.”

“No!” Darius’ shout was more like a cough. “Mianu, don’t! Stay away! She’s going to—”

He was cut off with another cry as his captor delivered another sharp kick. Darius was nearly doubled over at this point. If it weren’t for the chains holding him up, he would have crashed to the floor.

“You’d better hurry, princeling,” the mercenary sneered. “Or your knight in shining armor will face far, far worse than that.”

“If you touch him again, I swear you will pay,” Mianu growled.

“And if you try any tricks, he’ll be the one to suffer for it,” the mercenary replied colly. “See you soon, your highness.”

She ran her thumb along the gem again, cutting off the connection. Then she tossed it over her shoulder. It clattered to the floor in some hidden corner of the room... where it distinctly cracked. Darius winced. He hadn’t just failed to protect his prince. He’d managed to lose an important gift from him, too.

He was a failure. As a knight. As a partner.

The mercenary’s eyes flashed. She looked almost like a kid on her favorite holiday.

“Well done,” she hissed.  “You played your part perfectly. Just like I told you.”

And something inside of Darius snapped. He forced himself as upright as he could get. It took much more effort than he would ever admit. And he couldn’t get his breathing steady. He hated himself for being so weak, for nearly crumbling after so few blows.

Mianu deserved better than that.

But he would not show this monster how weak he was. He would not allow himself to truly fall.

“You’ve made a big mistake,” he choked out. “Mainu’s stronger than you know. And he will show you no mercy.”

If he had hoped to intimidate his captor, he was severely disappointed.

“I don’t doubt his power,” she said smoothly. “I need it. Or have you already forgotten? I didn’t hit you in the head, you know. Though that can be arranged.”

Darius didn’t rise to the jibe. He kept fixing the mercenary with the coldest glare he could manage.

And she laughed again. “What a pathetic showing. I’m sure you think your prince is strong, but I promise you, I am more than powerful enough to handle anything he will attempt to use against me. And failing that… I hold all the cards.”

She sneered at Darius. Darius kept his expression cold and harsh. At least, he tried. He wasn’t sure if he succeeded.

Hope and fear warred inside of him. He knew that Mianu was on his way. That the prince would do everything in his power to save him. It would have been reassuring… if that hadn’t been where the danger truly lay.

If Mianu was hurt—or worse, if he actually gave in and broke his promise, if he used his magic again—it would be entirely Darius’ fault.

A part of him truly hoped that Mianu wouldn’t risk something like that. But his hopes were dashed all too soon. It wasn’t long at all before Mianu arrived.

The first sign of it was the cold. One moment, the small room was just as annoyingly warm as always. The next, the air was like ice.

The door burst open. There was a hissing sound, one that was all too familiar to Darius. And a figure stood in the doorway, a single point of brightness against a wall of shadows. Magic curled around his arm like whisps of smoke. 

A powerful voice rang across the room. A voice full of the type of fury that only royalty could truly summon.

Royalty… and a very pissed off boyfriend.

“Let. Him. Go.”

Shadows howled along with him. Darius’ heart pounded. Mianu had found them. And his power was already unleashed.

[bluberimufim]

Hi, happy blorbo blursday to you!! (As usual I am @writeblr-of-my-own)

How do your blorboes react when they get sick? Who gets sick more often? Who takes care of them? Who pushes trough the pain, and who gets in bed when they have the slightest cold? Who is super mad when they get ill and who does not mind? Go wild with this one!

Happy blorbo blursday to you too!

I'm gonna try to spread this out over my WIPs to make it more interesting.

Black and White

The answer is 100% Markov for almost all the parameters in the ask.

When he was working at the circus Reyna found out he was getting weird hallucinations (he fucked up his brain with his faustian bargain magic powers and sometimes has difficulty telling what is real and what is illusion) she told Johann and he freaked out. Johann is basically the dad of the younger people at the circus (except for Darius, he's been claimed by Diedrich as his New Son), so he immediately offered to take care of him and give him every medical resource available. Markov was like "ew no leave me alone" and refused everything.

But later in the story, after experiencing Growth(TM) and also horrifying torture at the hands of a god, he starts going to Darius whenever he needs help, since he considers him to be almost a brother to him. He asks Darius to hold his hand when it gets too much and Darius is very happy to do so.

Also, as a side note: Alphonse never got sick as a child because as soon as Diedrich, his father, heard him sneeze he'd go "let's heal that up with my magic powers". He gets super confused when his friends have to stay in bed for a few days to recover from a cold.

The as of yet unnamed Dystopia WIP

The obvious answer would be Cristover because he's the group's baby and has somehow amassed 4 and a half parental figures (you can find an informal introduction here). Or Nester's two (now dead) daughters, since he's one of the country's most renowned doctors (I kinda expand on his character here).

But the actual answer is Vi, who's sickly as hell. It's very hard to get a regular supply of your meds when you're a criminal on the run after a botched coup d'état, so he's constantly feeling Weak and Frail. He's like "Don't worry, I've dealt with this bitchass chronic illness all my life!" *is struggling to stay upright*. Veta and Veo, his two girlfriends, are very worried about him.

Devourer of Souls

Well you see. Seth is a very skilled healer, so his kids never get sick. Except for Kayla (name may be subject to change), who's allergic to magic like one would be allergic to polen, and starts sneezing uncontrollably whenever magic is used in her vicinity. The whole kids thing happens way later in the story, when he's like... 40-50 years old.

But the thing about Seth is that ge can't heal himself. So earlier in the story, when he was in his 20s-30s, whenever he went "ah, my leg hurts" in the beginning, his partner Teo would scoop him up like "Do not fear, my love!! I will help you!!" and he'd try to carry him until his arms gave out (which, when you're the strongest demigod to ever live, is a long fucking time). Teo eventually learned that that's not very nice.

(Here I should mention that Seth got his right leg busted early in his youth in a healing accident on which I'll elaborate at a later time, rendering it almost useless. He's kinda weak so that's why Teo was so adamant on carrying him around.)

Meanwhile Teo has no clue how to take care of himself. He's like *slowly losing pieces of his soul due to magic-related deterioration to the point that he barely feels human anymore* "Yea I'm fine".

I loved this ask! I do hope my response wasn't too long.

[cacodemonmania]

Review - Catching Fire by Suzanne Collins

⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️/5

Big spoilers ahead ->

Hey y'all! Thank you for the positive reception on my review of the first book, I really appreciate it!

Getting into the thick of it, I read Catching Fire this afternoon in approximately one sitting. You could say it was pretty riveting. That being said, I had a lot of conflicting feelings on the developments.

The narration and pace are still very entertaining (that tends to stay the same with authors) but I noticed differences in Katniss' attitude, especially as the book went on and she became more and more focused on keeping Peeta alive and only on keeping Peeta alive. You see it a lot when she abandons her other interests and own will to live in favor of saving him. Like the way that she fully condemns Haymitch and Plutarch and even Peeta when she realizes that he wasn't saved with her at the end. I feel bad for her because it isn't really her fault, though I don't agree with the way that she responds when she wakes up (not hearing Haymitch out mostly), I also realize that she's probably shut down as a survival technique and focused on saving Peeta and when that falls apart she kind of loses it. It's a unique situation; grappling with what to do when you're still alive after coming to terms with and preparing for your own death, realizing your life has been prioritized over your dear "friend" (wink) that you'd been ready to die for, also recovering from probably a concussion, and more. I dunno. It's just interesting to see the shift in Katniss' thought process and worldview.

I was happy to find that I like Finnick in the book as much (if not more) as I liked him in the movie. He is a very sentimental, decent person and that tucks him into a special place in my heart. His and Katniss' relationship also makes me happy. I'm not sure if that's because I like his character or if it's because he and Katniss go through so much together (i.e. the jabberjays and when Annie and Peeta get captured), which makes them understand each other in a way no one else does. They also both go out of their way to help and be happy for the other.

Two things that really stand out to me when I try and think back on the whole book rather than just talking about the end is the way that Katniss didn't get to say her goodbyes and Darius. I don't know why, out of all the things, Katniss not getting to say her last words that she'd prepared for the people she'd never see again (from her POV) bothers me. It's something that doesn't affect the Capital at all, but means everything to Katniss and her family and friends. Maybe because it's such a small thing and taking it away is so cruel. And then Darius. Darius and the red-headed girl always break my heart because they're both so kind. Cray was a lesser evil, but Darius seemed funny and good hearted and his punishment was so harsh for such a small act of kindness.

I am NOT excited for Mocking Jay 🫶. I hate seeing Peeta tortured and it breaks my heart that he has to go through it. I've seen a lot of takes along the lines of "Peeta will never know how much he loved Katniss before :(" and that makes me want to cry so I am instead choosing to take the opinion of the one comment I saw that was along the lines of "Peeta's love of Katniss before began as a crush, and for a lot of it that's what it was because it was often unrequited, but the second time around he grows to love her despite everything" (the og comment said it better but I deleted tiktok so I can't find it).

However, I've heard the movie is vastly different from the book so I have a lot of optimism! And despite what I've said, I am still am very much enjoying this series and its characters. Stay tuned :)

[darkmatter-nebula]

Colli's mind gets damaged and his parents and siblings take an adventure into his mind to fix it.

Good morning! Thanks for the request!

Interesting idea, my dear anon!

One-Shot: Beautiful Mind

It was a quiet afternoon on the Boiling Isles. Even though, it wasn't meant to stay quiet. Mattholomule was spending some time with his favorite celestial boy with otherworldly fluffy lavender hair and a kind heart. Unfortunately, Colli was the target of bounty hunters again!

They ambushed Colli and Mattholomule. The brown haired boy tried to be brave. "Hey! Leave Colli alone!" It was obvious that Mattholomule was just as scared as Colli was. Unfortunately, the bounty hunters attacked Colli all at once and hit his head with a very powerful spell!

The spell was supposed to brainwash him, but it had a different effect. Colli looked at Mattholomule. "Who are you?" The starboy asked innocently. "Oh, no... YOU JERKS HAVE ERASED HIS MEMORIES!" Even though he was scared, Mattholomule was more than livid!

He knew that he wouldn't stand a chance against the bounty hunters. Mattholomule picked the featherlight Colli up and ran as fast as he could to the Owl House. Hooty sensed that something was wrong. "What happend?" The house demon asked, clearly concerned about Colli.

"Some bounty hunters attacked Colli and accidentally erased his memories!" Mattholomule explained just as concerned. "What did you just say?!" Hunter overheard everything. Even though Colli couldn't remember his big brother, he smiled sweetly at the blonde boy.

Hunter cupped tenderly Colli's face and pressed with infinite gentleness their foreheads together. "I will not let you down!" The young Grimwalker said softly, determined to bring his little Sunshine's memories back. To Hunter's delight, Colli wrapped his arms around him for a soft hug.

"I think he is still in there!" Mattholomule chimed in. As soon as the rest of Colli's family heard what happend, they already planned to fix his mind. Eda, Raine, Camila and Darius were furious at the bounty hunters! Same for Hunter, King, Luz, Vee and Hooty! These jerks dared to hurt Colli!

Raine and Darius made a familiar potion, the same that was supposed to bring them into Belos' mind. "Don't worry, Little Star! We're going to save you!" Eda whispered as she gave Colli a sleep potion. Soon, Colli's parents and siblings found themselfs in the celestial boy's mind.

Mattholomule and Hooty stayed behind and decided to wait. It didn't take long for Camila to spot a portrait, that showed her sweet little Moonpie on the Draining Chair. Her precious baby was in terrible agony! "Little Star..." "Little Songbird..." "Stardust..." "Moonpie..." The adults whispered, clearly shocked.

Colli's siblings didn't fail to notice the portrait as well. Hunter was already plotting murder. Vee teared up. "I was already shocked as he told me about it, but that's horrible! As soon as we are back, I'm going to give him the biggest hug ever!" She said. Hunter, Luz and King agreed.

Suddenly, everyone could hear soft whimpering. It sounded like Colli! Apparently, it was his inner self. "Hey, it's ok." Hunter said softly and approached him. "Big brother." The inner Colli whispered. "You recognize me!" Hunter was beyond relieved! "Be careful... it's dangerous..." The inner Colli whispered, clearly scared.

"Little Star, what do mean?" As soon as Eda asked this, everyone was face to face with a shadowy creature, that resembled Belos! "My precious Little Battery!" As it turned out, Colli's strong emotions of fear manifested as the form of the one who had tortured him for fifty years, Belos!

"It's payback time!" Even though the shadow wasn't the real Belos, Hunter was ready to defend his beloved little brother. Shadow!Belos dodged Hunter's attack, but didn't see Camila's baseball bat coming. Same for Luz' glyphs, Eda's harpy form, Darius' Abomination form and Raine's violin.

"You can't defeat me! My grip on his mind is too strong to withstand! He is mine and he will always be mi-" Darius didn't let Shadow!Belos finish his sentence and punched him very hard. "Shut up! Stardust is not yours! He never was! He was your prisoner!" The Abomination Coven Head was furious!

The battle continued and it was so satisfying for the whole family to do the finishing blow. What no one suspected was, that a tiny piece of Shadow!Belos remained. It was still able to give Colli sometimes nightmares. Meanwhile, the family was back out of the starboy's mind.

Colli stirred awake and was immediately pulled into a group hug by his whole family, Hooty and Mattholomule. "Awww! I love you guys too!" Colli said with a bright smile on his adorable face. "Moonpie, do you recognize us?" Camila asked. "Of course I do, mami!" Colli smiled sweetly.

Hunter showered the lavender haired celestial boy's face with kisses. "I'm so glad that you're alright, Colli!" Hunter clinged to his little Sunshine like a lifeline. "Thank you all so much for fixing my mind!" Colli spoke up. "Anything for you, Stardust!" Darius chimed in.

The End

[rouecentric]

Hi! I’m really excited that you’ve added Father I don’t wanna get married! I must say you’re my favorite writer.

Can I get romantic yandera with Regis? Like Reader is duchess who just recently become a widow. Her husband was the Royal advisor of emperor, so she was forced took that job even before her tears were dried. Emperor dumbs all of his work to her which means overworking, because of that she often pull all nighter and missing meals. Sooner her influence in noble society grew so much that emperor cannot ignore it anymore. So he made reader marry Regis by force, so that regis could take care of her when time comes. Sooner they fallen love even though it was a long and hard journey, and she was the mother that our fl wanted. She always protected fl from anything. Og fl devolved her obsession in og timeline. Of course, where’s the angst? Sooner reader’s health was at the rock bottom, she could barely even take a walk without getting tired only few minutes later. But that trashy emperor still made her work, then emperor decided to get rid of reader and blamed her for treason, reader knowing this day will come just calmly walked towards to Royal knight who were send to arrest her. She was tortured(like many bad things) for few days before being beaten to death, her corpse were a burned and nothing was left. Then Regis after regressing(?) become obsessed with her along side his daughter…

You can just ignore it if any of them made you uncomfortable!

characters: regis adri floyen, jubelian eloy floyen, darius zeferon ashet

cw/tw: torture, death, forced marriage, regression, obsessive behavior, delusional behavior, health issues, hanging, declining health, romantiscized mental illness(if yandere origin or meaning is that of a mental illness)

notes: decided to change reader being beaten to death to just being simply hanged in front of the emperor, i also made it that Regis regressed after killing himself when he killed everyone in the palace, fem!reader, widow reader, romantic yandere

a/n: hskshajwypkvd- i'm your favorite writer?😳

-You should've seen this coming before as the widow of the emperor's royal advisor, instead of realising it too late.

-It was soon after your husband's funeral that the emperor out of the blue assigned you the job of royal advisor, seemingly dismissive of the fact that you're not even a week in after the funeral.

-But that kept you from thinking about your dead lover as your papers kept piling from the imperial palace to your beautiful dukedom that you inherited from your late-husband, not caring if you lost sleep or that your complection was worse, work came first. you should've understood that your health was. declining when you almost passed out several times a week

-When Regis heard of it, he knew there was no reason to argue with the emperor, as he could easily kill his daughter, so, with out any complaints, the two of you got married.

-But with your sudden rise in power because of the emperor, your influence over the nobles tremendously also raised. Unfortunately, that made the emperor anxious and in fear of your newly gained power, arranging you to marry Regis from the Floyen dukedom.

-When Jubelian heard of the news, she was exctatic! She's getting a new mother? That's amazing! When you and Jubelian met for the first time, it was surprisingly great! You two planned to meet during tea time, deciding to introduce yourselves so you could get to know each other better, as well as the two of your childhoods

-You soon grew attached to Jubelian, as Jubelian also became emotionally attached to you. But when you found out that Regis was practically never there for Jubelian's entire childhood? You knew what you had to do, after comforting and consoling Jubelian, you went to Regis' office and demanded an explanation to why he basically neglected Jubelian, in which his answer angered you even more.

-And when push comes to shove, you scolded and explained why Regis not being there to "protect" his daughter did more harm than good for almost an entire hour. not even stopping to breathe! Although it was a rocky start at first, your forced marriage slowly turned into one of actual love.

-After him reconciling with his daughter, he wanted to thank you, so he brought you your favorite flowers and desert in your free time, suggesting to go on an outing with Jubelian sometime soon. You, of course, accepted and even hired a painter to paint the three of you on that outing, wanting to capture that moment with your beloved daughter and husband.

-But when the two of you finally fully fell in love, your health suddenly hit the lowest of lows, not even being able to walk for long, and heaven forbid you running for at least ten seconds! Even at the lowest of points in your life, the emperor still forced you to work, treating you like a toy that he uses until it either breaks, or he sees no use for it anymore.

-For Jubelian, you wrote about how you wished you could've seen her grow older and into a beautifuly lady, assigning her as your heir to your dukedom, as well as writing how much you became emotionally attached and how it breaks your heart knowing she'll grow up without a mother again

-And when you actually passed out when working? He decided that there was no use for you anymore, as your health was already horrible, he decided to frame you for treason, demanding that you'd be executed in front of him and only him. (Un)fortunately, you knew this would happen when your health deteriorated even more. before being executed and tortured, you wrote two different letters; one for Jubelian, and one for Regis.

-And for Regis? An apology letter as well as parts where you reminisce about the times you two had together, as well as writing about Jubelian and deciding her to be the one to inherit everything you owned. Of course, you asked the head maid to give the two letters to them after you went to the royal knights without putting up a fight.

-Regis was heartbroken, but couldn't even cry. He now only had Jubelian again, desperately trying to comfort her after she read the letter you wrote her.

-Assumingly by the emperor's orders, you were emotionally tortured, as well as a bit physically, resulting you into becoming that akin to a soulless doll, the way your eyes would usually sparkle became dull, reminding everyone of an abyss looking straight at them, as well as becoming numb to physical pain. After four days of torture, you were hung in front of the emperor.

-And when Jubelian killed herself? That was the last straw for him, murdering everyone in the palace before killing himself. But when he killed himself, his eyes immediately opened, seemingly in the past? He immediately went into his newborn's, Jubelian's, room, confirming himself that he, indeed has regressed

-And with this, he promises himself to never let the emperor cause any pain for Jubelian and you, even if he has to kill the emperor himself, as he already did that in his past life.

[sergeantsporks]

Whatever It Takes

Rating: Teen and Up, Gen

TW: Self-harm, attempted suicide, emotional manipulation

“While I’ve got you here, want to hear the complete history of wild magic? I’m sure you’ll find it very interesting, considering that you’re old enough to have lived through it.”

“I am not, you little brat. Shut your mouth, I don’t want to listen to your voice.” 

“Yeah? What if I don’t want to shut up? What if I feel like singing?"

Hunter is a difficult prisoner to keep, and Lilith and Eda are about to find that out the hard way.

Ao3

Ch 4/4: Set Free (to fly into another cage)

Ch 1, Ch 2, Ch 3

“… Lilith? Do… do you really hate me?”

Lilith jumped at Hunter’s slurred voice, twisting to look at him. His eyes were only half-open—the sleeping potion hadn’t quite worn off yet. Still, she reached for her staff, just in case. He was still white as a sheet, and his hands were shaking uncontrollably. “You’re still in shock—I’m going to go get more—”

“Do you?” he pressed, wincing at every word. His palisman stared at her judgmentally, protectively wiggling down further into Hunter’s hair.

Lilith twisted her hands in her lap. “I… I hate what you represent. Emperor Belos. The coven I served faithfully for thirty years of my life that threw me out like trash. My replacement, my failure, the fact that there’s always someone better than me, someone more favored, someone born better than me in some way that I can never catch up to with hard work.” She sighed. “But… the weight of being coven head will crush you. I hate what you do for the emperor, but at the end of the day… You can be annoying, but I can’t hate you—in another reality where I didn’t have Edalyn, I would be you.”

The barest ghost of a smile crossed his face. “You… wish you could be me…”

Lilith snorted. “Yeah, right, brat.” She took in a deep breath. “Let me ask you something: why does it matter?”

“…huh?”

“Why does it matter if I hate you or not? You’re a loyal coven member, right? And I’m a traitor. By all rights and purposes, we should hate each other. You have Belos—why do you need my love?”

She got up, going back to the kitchen and grabbing another bottle of sleeping potion. “I don’t know why I’m bothering. You probably won’t even remember this,” she murmured, uncorking the bottle, “Alright, sleep for you until your nerves settle. You look awful.”

Hunter’s hand twitched, like he was trying to grab her hand, and his palisman fluttered down to his shoulder, chirping comfortingly. “I didn’t try to kill myself because I failed,” he mumbled. His dazed eyes stared into hers desperately, like he needed her to understand what he was talking about. “It was just that I was more useful to Belos dead.”

A chill ran down her spine, and Lilith’s hands shook as she held the sleeping potion to his mouth, tilting it back. He fell back asleep as his palisman nuzzled his face, and she tossed the empty bottle down onto the table, her hands still shaking. She tucked them into her lap, willing herself to be still.

Still, she couldn’t forget his magenta eyes locked onto hers, and how desperate they looked.

Titan, that had been freaky.

Lilith could imagine being so scared of Belos’ disappointment, so scared of the punishment he would met out that she could despair and take her own life.

But the idea of willingly tying the noose around her neck because she thought it was what Belos would want-!

That was a level of loyalty—really more border-lining on blind adoration and worship—that she couldn’t understand.

Lilith briefly thought about calling Eda and telling her about this disturbing new development, but she shut her mouth before she actually made a sound.

“Hootcifer?” she called faintly.

The house demon was at her side in a moment. “I heard, Lulu.”

Lilith rubbed her temples. “Can you just… keep an eye on him for a bit? I’m going for a walk. I need to clear my head.”

“You can count on me!”

Lilith patted her friend’s face absentmindedly and wandered outside.

She’d always known how Belos was, she told herself, she’d always known how good he was at manipulating people.

She’d just… never quite considered the ramifications of only having Belos as an influence. Coven training, and old self-preservation habits still kicked in on her sometimes. But at least she’d had a different upbringing. She could take a step back and remind herself what was right and wrong.

No, she realized with sudden clarity, she didn’t hate Hunter at all.

She just pitied him.

Xxx

Eda traipsed down the stairs to see Hooty rocking a passed-out Hunter back and forth, singing some demon lullaby about eating bugs to him while Hunter’s palisman flew frantically around him, pecking at her house demon. She had to stop and stare at that for a moment, just trying to figure out what was going on.

“Do I want to know?”

“Lulu asked me to watch him! I think he likes my singing, he hasn’t woken up yet.”

“Uh, yeah, that’s because he’s drugged, Hooty.”

“Oh.” Hooty dumped Hunter back on the couch unceremoniously, and his palisman fluttered down, warbling angrily. “I guess drugging your kids to go to sleep isn’t a parenting choice I’d considered.”

“Drugging my—Hooty, he’s our prisoner, not a new kid! Are you kidding me? He’s the Golden Guard!”

“Tell that to Lulu.”

Eda pinched the bridge of her nose. Oh, no. “Explain that statement right now.”

“She feels bad for him.”

“’Bout time. Of course she feels bad for him, everyone feels bad for him, he’s a tragic-faced little angst-ball, that doesn’t mean we’re going to adopt him! He’s tried to kill us several times, for titan’s sake!”

Hooty flopped down over Hunter, earning more angry tweets and pecks from his palisman. “I think he’s fun. He reminds me of Lulu. You keep him prisoner, I’m going to be his friend!”

“Hooty, that’s very nice of you to offer, but we already established that we’re not going to torture him. Get off of him before his bird has an aneurism.”

Eda heard a knock on the door, and she gestured frantically to Hooty. “Hide the kid!” she hissed.

Hooty swallowed Hunter whole.

“Oh—okay, that happened. You are going to spit him back up, Hooty.”

He nodded unconvincingly while Hunter’s palisman went ballistic, flying up and down the length of Hooty’s neck, chirping anxiously. Eda ignored them, opening the door to see Darius standing outside. “Coven head. How nice.” She stepped outside, closing the door behind her, hiding the Hooty situation. “Get off of my lawn.”

“Oh, I’m not here to pick a fight!” Darius said, his voice oozing with fake sincerity, “I came to inform you that I’m relatively certain I saw the owl beast! And it attacked me!”

“Aw, really? Shame. Well, you know how it is! That thing’s a wild animal, can’t control it!”

Darius sniffed. “Disgusting creature. Yes. But I believe that someone else may have been controlling it.”

It took every ounce of Eda’s very limited self-control not to haul off and punch him in the face. The owl beast inside her snapped angrily at the insult. “Ohhhhh is that so?”

“Yes. One question for you. Where. Is. Your. Sister?”

Xxx

Lilith turned on the path back towards the Owl House. She shouldn’t leave Hunter alone with Hooty for too long—she adored her friend, but he could be a little much to some people.

She froze in her tracks as she saw Darius, talking to Eda. Eda gave her a go away look.

“NO, Darius, my sister has NOT been controlling my owl beast form,” she said loudly, “I don’t know WHY you’d think that, and I CERTAINLY don’t know where she is!”

Lilith ducked around the back of the house, coming in the kitchen door. If Darius found Hunter—it was all over. She ran into the living room, but Hunter wasn’t there anymore.

Then she spotted Hunter’s palisman fluttering around Hooty’s face, tweeting angrily. She pointed one finger at the ground. “Spit him up, Hootcifer.”

“Eda told me to hide him.”

“I’ll take care of that now. Spit him up.”

Hooty retched, and coughed up a roughly Hunter-sized owl pellet. Lilith tore it apart while Hunter’s palisman perched on her shoulder, watching anxiously.

“There, see, he’s fine,” she told the bird, lifting Hunter up, “He didn’t even wake up.”

The cardinal settled down on its witch, warbling softly.

There was a loud bang from outside, and a lot of yelling. “GET OFF OF MY PROPERTY!” Eda yelled, her voice rising to the shriek of her harpy form.

Hunter’s eyes fluttered open, and he stared up at Lilith. She promptly dropped him.

“Ack! Sorry.”

Hunter blinked, disoriented. “Wha—what’s going o—”

Lilith drew a plant glyph, vines tangling up Hunter’s hands before he could grab his palisman. “Darius is here,” she whispered, “He’s looking for me—and by extension, probably you.”

Hunter’s face, surprisingly, paled at that. “Eda won’t beat him—you only beat us last time through the element of surprise. This time, he’s made the first move.”

“Yes, and I’m sure you’re quite pleased with that.”

He shook his head, white as a sheet. “Don’t let him find me,” he begged.

Lilith’s heart thudded in her chest, barely daring to hope… “What? Why not? This is what you wanted, isn’t it? To go back?”

“No! Not like this! If Darius finds me, then Belos will know I was captured, and—I have to get out of here!”

“And go where? I’d love some suggestions as to where I can stash you.”

Hunter bit his lip. “We can help each other,” he said suddenly, “I’ll make a deal with you—let me go. Emperor Belos won’t be as angry if I’m just late.”

“Yeah, I see how that helps you. But I’m still dead meat.”

Hunter shook his head. “If Darius doesn’t find me here, he won’t know what you did. If you let me go, Lilith, I promise that I won’t tell the emperor what happened. I don’t want him knowing that you captured me any more than you do, trust me.”

“Ugh—yes, yes, I know how it is. I trust you on that, at least.”

“Okay. It’s settled, then. You let me go, and I pretend like this whole thing never happened. Eda might get in a little bit of hot water for fighting a coven head out there, but everyone gets off scot-free, more or less.”

“It is not settled! You’re really going to go back?! You’re so scared of him finding out you got captured that you’re going to lie for the rest of your life about what happened, but you’re still going to go back to him?”

“Of course I am—Belos sent Darius to rescue me. He wants me back, Lilith, he didn’t give up on me!”

Lilith thought her heart might just snap in two. Just when maybe she’d gotten close—this really was the worst time for Darius to show up looking for him. “Ah—titan, Hunter, he doesn’t actually care about you! He doesn’t care about any of us! He’s just using you!”

“Well—maybe that’s enough. To be needed, useful. Please, Lilith.”

Lilith looked down at his pleading eyes. What would happen if she said no? He’d keep trying to escape, only for her to drag him back? What if she wasn’t watching as closely one day, and he succeeded at killing himself? Could she live with herself if that happened? And that was assuming they even got out of this situation. She sighed, untying his hands and grabbing his coven staff from Eda’s weapon room. “Let’s go.”

They snuck around the fighting Darius and Eda, soaring up into the sky on their staffs. Lilith touched down with him outside the keep, holding out his staff. “How are you going to explain what took you so long? And why you look like…” she gestured to his blood-stained clothes. “…that.”

Hunter dropped his palisman staff, and his bird transformed back into its live form, perching on his shoulder. “…You’re right, I need something believable.” He looked at her, then down at his feet. “Lilith… you know how it works… Eda could never…”

Nausea swirled in Lilith’s stomach. “Oh, no. Hunter—”

“The healers will take care of it, I’ll be fine, I just need an excuse.”

“I—I don’t want to… Titan, Hunter, Belos is not worth this.”

“Do it quick. Before I change my mind. He squeezed his eyes shut, putting his hand in his mouth.

“Are you—”

“Just do it!” he growled around his glove.

Lilith sucked in a deep breath, and brought her staff whirling around into the side of his knee with a crack. He bit down on his hand with a strangled scream, and she caught him by the arms, lowering him gently to the ground while his palisman warbled comfortingly to him. “It’s not too late to come back. We can figure out something for Darius—you don’t have to go back.” Please don’t go back.

His eyes shined with that same weird, uncomfortable light that they had when he’d told her that killing himself was what Belos would want. “He—needs—me. I want to go back.”

Lilith sighed, and gently scooped Hunter’s palisman up in her hands, straightening up. “Hey,” she said softly to it, “Take care of him, okay? Make sure he has a voice other than Belos’. I’m sorry that I can’t get through to him. Maybe you can.”

The cardinal nodded and gave her wrist an affectionate peck before turning into solid wood. Lilith tucked the palisman into Hunter’s cloak and mussed up his hair, tucking a twig into it. “There. So you look the part.”

He smiled weakly. “Thank you, Lilith.”

Lilith squeezed her eyes shut for a moment, then sat back on her staff. “Don’t thank me, Hunter. Not for this. Never for this. If I really cared, I’d take you far, far away from here.”

“This is where I belong.”

Lilith shook her head, flying back towards the owl house and trying in vain to forget about the injured boy she’d just left behind.

No one belongs here. Certainly not you.

Xxx

 Eda growled, twisting and straining against the abomination goop pinning her to her own wall. Darius tore through the house, holding Hooty at bay by sticking his mouth shut with more goo. Eventually, the abomination-man slimed his way back. “She’s really not here.”

“Of course not,” Eda snapped, “Get out of my house.”

He snarled at her. “You seem to have an awful lot of control for just a dumb beast. You’d better hope that I forget about this, Edalyn.”

And then he was gone, his slime following him. Eda let out a sigh of relief, switching back to her regular body. “Alright, Hooty, cough up the kid—hey, where’d his palisman go?”

“Lilith already took the golden guard!”

As if he’d summoned her, Lilith touched down from the sky.

Notably without Hunter.

“Liiiiliiii,” Eda singsonged in a you’re-in-trouble voice, “What did you do with my prisoner?”

Lilith clutched her staff tightly, looking down to the side. “I let him go,” she said softly.

“You did WHAT?!”

“He won’t rat us out, don’t worry.” To Eda’s surprise, her sister’s shoulders started to shake. “I forgot how alone you feel in the coven,” she murmured, “Like no one can help you, and it’s all you can do to survive.”

Almost all of Eda’s anger immediately dissipated, and she wrapped an arm around her sister’s shoulders. “Ohhh, okay. Okay. He’ll be alright, Lilith.”

“I wanted to protect you, and I was worried he’d keep trying to kill himself if we kept him, so I left him, but he won’t be okay, Eda, no one there is okay, and I just left him there to protect my own stupid skin!”

Eda rubbed her sister’s arm. “Hey, you did what you thought was the best of a lot of bad options. There wasn’t a scenario where everyone got out okay. He can hold out for a while, Lilith. He has his palisman. And if you want, we can kidnap him again some other time, okay? Better yet, we can send Luz, she’s very good at making people like her and rebel for her.”

Lilith snorted a little bit at that. “Thank you, Edalyn.”

“Send me where?”

Eda whirled around to see her apprentice standing on the path, King behind her. “Oh! Hey, you’re back! Uh, on some errands, of course! Lilith ran out of elixir!”

Luz nodded to Lilith. “Oh, hey! What have you two been up to?”

Eda and Lilith glanced at each other. “Nothing,” they said in unison.

Xxx

“Ah, Hunter. You’ve returned.”

Belos watched his nephew struggle to kneel, biting his lip so hard it bled. “Emperor Belos—I apologize for the delay in my return.”

“Darius said he left you behind fighting the assassins.”

Hunter nodded.

“And?”

“A couple of low-life thugs—no one important.” Hunter made a vague gesture at his bloody clothes. “I took care of them.”

A lie. Belos knew that the owl lady and her sister had been behind this, and he also knew that they were still alive. Which meant it wasn’t their blood staining his guard’s clothes. Interesting. He’d let the boy get away with it for now, but if Hunter started to make a habit of lying to him, he’d have to find a way to quash it. “And your injury?”

“Sustained in the fight. Again, I apologize for the delay it caused. It won’t happen again.”

“No. It won’t. See yourself to the healers. I need you healthy.” Belos watched him haul himself up, leaning on his staff for support. “I’m glad you’ve returned, Hunter.”

Xxx

Hunter limped to his bed with a sigh, collapsing on it and rubbing his knee. The healers had mended most of the damage, but it was still sore. His palisman fluttered out of his pocket, chiding him.

“It doesn’t hurt that bad. I’m okay, I promise.”

A disgusted chirp.

“Don’t talk about him like that! He’s the emperor, there’s appearances to keep up—even if you get hurt.” Hunter held out a hand for the bird to perch on. “Hey—he was happy to see me. Lilith doesn’t know what she’s talking about.”

His palisman gave his hand a disdainful look, and fluttered up to his shelf, fluffing up its feathers.

“Well, fine! Be that way.” Hunter flopped backwards on his bed. Somehow, the room seemed emptier than it had when he’d left.

Why do I need Lilith to like me?

He shook himself.

Forget her. You’re home. Belos needs you. And that’s all that matters.

[textsfromthefifthbasement]

Potober Day 4

Hi, everyone! From this list of prompts, here’s the oneshot based on the prompt for day 4: “Down once more” - Taken Hostage/the Torture Chamber/Escape.

Forest of Iron

Nadir sat at Reza’s side, watching him as he slept. His heart twisted as he watched his son struggle for breath, even in sleep. The light in the lantern beside his bed flickered. Nadir rubbed his hands together, unable to find any words for his prayer.

In the other room, he heard a door open, followed by Darius’s hushed, agitated whispers. Anger flooded him. He stood up and stormed into the other room.

He saw Erik towering over Darius. Darius nervously tried to keep him from going farther into the house. Nadir said, “Get out of my house.”

For one moment, it almost looked like hurt flashed in Erik’s eyes. But then, he narrowed them. “How dare you.”

“How dare I? I’m not the one who created…” Nadir shook his head and swallowed back the bile.

It was supposed to be a normal day. Though he supposed that he should’ve realized that it would be far from normal when the sultana requested his presence.

He had been brought to the section of the palace that had been closed off to everyone for the past several months. When he had seen Erik standing there with the little sultana—that bloodthirsty child—he had half-expected to be executed for some unknown slight, real or imagined. The sultana beamed and clapped her hands. “Oh, Daroga! You’re here! We have something to show you.”

His heart sunk as he approached and knelt in front of the sultana. She motioned him up before turning to Erik. “Go on. Show him what you’ve made.”

Erik wouldn’t look at him as he walked to a wall that had been shrouded in a white sheet. He pulled it away to reveal—well, he wasn’t quite sure what he was looking at. It looked, improbably, like a forest, lit up like the daytime. But if it came from Erik’s mind to please the sultana…

“Erik, what is this.”

“It’s a torture chamber.”

“How?”

The sultana cut in, “Oh, it’s quite ingenious. Guards! Get the prisoner.”

A few moments later, one of the men condemned to death was shoved into the chamber. Nadir shifted, nervous about what he was about to watch. The sultana said, “The walls are made of mirrors. Isn’t that wondrous! And the heat from the light, it slowly drives the prisoner mad with thirst while it roasts them.”

Nadir watched as the prisoner circled the room. The man tried to put his hands on the walls and screamed as the heat from the mirror burned him. Horror filled his mind. Horror he wouldn’t soon forget. He had looked up at Erik. Erik’s face had been completely blank as he watched the prisoner.

Now, Nadir watched Erik as he paced in front of him. “Don’t blame me for the chamber,” Erik said.

Nadir was just tired. So tired. “Then give me the name of the architect so I do know who to blame.”

Erik growled and raised his voice. “This is your fault. You were the one who brought me here. If anyone is to blame for the blood on my hands, it’s you.”

A small voice from the bedroom door said, “Papa? Mister Erik?”

Nadir turned around to see Reza sitting at the doorway. His eyes were cloudy from blindness, and he must have crawled his way from the bed. “Darius, please put my son back to bed.”

They were quiet as Darius picked Reza up and carried him back into the bedroom. Finally, Nadir said, “Erik, one day you will have no one left to blame except for yourself. What will you do then?”

[toripar]

so quick rant about champions we could see in arcane season 2 bc this show literally leaves me w nothing else in my little monke brain

we see Warwick in singed's lab at the end, so hes definitely there, i am SO EXCITED to see his arcane design. his League design is actually pretty solid and i love it, but i guess they can up the creep factor quite a bit, make him look "quite not there yet" ??

would he also have flashbacks as his days as vander? or maybe in singed's lab?? id be stoked to watch that

clan ferros afaik was already mentioned by Mel, and knowing how much exactly she's wrapped up in piltie politics, camille is a pretty strong contender to appear in season 2. i don't care to much of her lore because i hate her— but maybe she rises bc of the piltover-zaun war or something

if she does PLEASE MAKE HER LOOK OLD XD

OH I REMEMBERED SHE WOULD HELP UNCOVER WHO KIDNAPPED CAitlyn's parents (aka C), sO would that be what vi and cait be doing in season 2 ??

if orianna really is Singed's daughter, then i wanna see her human form, lowkey, but is that timeline already past? mayyhaps. i want her to appear tho she's an interesting champion and an even more interesting design sigh,,, viktor made the hex core, so like maybe if s2 is after a timeskip— orianna replaces her heart w a hexcore then?

also like singed lore along w her please

they're just both so interesting 😭😭

im like hoping season 2 brings viktor's story in the Frontlines and show his descent as the Machine Herald and the glorious revolution crap (its a fucking useful card tho lol) so then,, blitzcrank–,,, yes? yes ?? that's their name im p sure. blitzcrank being something of a pow-pow to viktor?? not really but ah– blitzcrank, nonetheless

i dunno if it was just me or there were ravens around jinx in some scenes?? with noxus being established as at the brink of a war (?) with ionia? demacia? or the revolt where Darius overthrew boram darkwill??

[ wait is mama medarda like, a warlord or zamindar or what? im not sure ]

but anyway, ravens. they're a symbol thingy for Swain- do we get him ?? i wish we do. he's got a pretty design im love him ,, also ,, "faces in the flames. it was all her fault,"

darius too, maybe?

maybe a little bit of stretch but renata glasc too,, maybe? the chembarons cOULD appear, and in that case the one who's torturing urgolt ? verros?? urgolt? glasc? unlikely but yeah

DR MUNDO! how could i forget him,, now that shimmer's in the scene, he could possibly appear too, as another one of Singed's experiments, not very major of a character, just more of a uyh "delve-into" Singed

okay i actually forgot how he was created but if chembarons are present then he might be too is all im saying,,

ziggs is an interesting one, i think i heard he's jinx's one night stand or something lmaooo– no she thinks he's a hallucination of hers im jk

he's also heimerdinger's assistant so yep he's got a chance to be there

okay the serious ones outta the way

here's the ones i wanna see

Janna: i think s1 is pre-people beginning to worship Janna, and s2 after it

Seraphine: please tell me she has a bigger role to play and that she actually uses her powers to help people

Draven and Riven bc i just like them and riven's my wife

[crash-bump-bring-the-whump]

Guess who had an idea? c:

TWs: Parental neglect, violence/anger taken out on an object

“No, no I’m alright.” Adair said, frowning even as his parents fretted on the other end of the line. “Yes. Yes, I’m at home now, Maggie is taking good care of me.” He hadn’t realized how much he’d missed his own bed until he’d fallen into it that morning after being discharged. 

His stomach twisted and he couldn’t be sure if it was from the way his aching bones creaked or how alien their worry sounded. They were definitely sincere. He knew that much--he couldn’t count the number of times he’d heard his mother’s low tutting whenever he’d scraped himself up or taken a bad fall.

Something about it felt different though. His father, a little further away than his mother, chimed in, promising that they would do whatever it took to bring Darius to justice. His mother promised that they would call again tomorrow, to check in. To make sure he was okay.

“Are you coming home?” He asked, words leaving his mouth before he could even think about them.

Both of his parents trailed off into silence. “Our trip home isn’t for another few weeks, Addie, you know that.” His father said, softly.

“You can afford to buy new tickets.” There was no venom, but he wasn’t pleading either. Just saying what they all knew.

“Adair, we can’t just--” His mother started.

Adair huffed, a startling laugh filling his room. “We have a live-in housekeeper.”

“Maggie’s rates are very reasonable, especially for her experience.”

He grit his teeth. “You paid my hospital bill in full, all at once. I know, because I tried asking about a payment plan. You can afford two plane tickets--”

Adair’s father cut in. “This isn’t fair, Adair. I’m sorry we can’t be there right now, but we didn’t cause this.” He could hear the sharp way his consonants twisted. It screamed discomfort. “I don’t appreciate how you’re speaking to us right now. This life is new to everyone, we couldn’t have seen this coming.”

Adair couldn’t bring himself to care. “And I don’t appreciate being caught in the crossfire of you stabbing your old business partner in the back.” He hung up on them before they could respond and threw his phone across the room. He shivered as the crack in his wall wobbled unnaturally.

Shoulders shaking, it took Adair a second to realize that burning tears had begun sliding down his face. With a frustrated keen, he raked the back of his wrist across his eyes and curled in on himself. He pulled his knees to his chest, pressing his forehead against them.

If his kid had gotten kidnapped and tortured, he would already be at the airport, that much Adair knew. it didn’t matter what sort of business was going on, he had a strong feeling that just saying “my kid was missing and is in the hospital right now” would get you out of pretty much anything. Why hadn’t they even tried to come home? That question tore at his chest more than anything--it made his heart hurt.

Only after the tears slowed again did he remember his phone. Gingerly, he walked over and picked it up, wincing at the spider web of cracks the screen had become. At least it didn’t matter how much a rush job to fix it would cost--he just had to find someone who could do it.

Stretching out on his bed again, he opened his laptop to start looking for repair shops and saw all the waiting messages from his different friends from college. One name in particular stood out--his online math tutor.

Hey. I know you’re home for the summer, if you want to hang out let me know. My brother and James are weird but they’re nice.

Adair didn’t hesitate to answer. Nathan was one of the few people he’d felt comfortable talking to when he was feeling particularly down. It hadn’t taken long at all for them to hang out even when Adair wasn’t struggling with homework.

Hi!! That’d be amazing honestly, things are so weird at the new place right now... also does your brother still do electronic repairs? I kinda shattered my phone screen.

Yeah, he can do that. Friday sound good to you? I can send you the address.

Perfect!!

[dopescotlandwarrior]

Sinners & Saints-Chapter 21

Special thanks to @ statell for all your help

Previous chapters at AO3

Chapter Twenty-one

Claire opened her eyes on the third morning since her reunion with Jamie and smiled when she heard him breathing next to her. It touched her that he stayed in bed until she woke because Jamie was an early riser. He wanted to be her everything again and being there when she woke was a good place to start. To ensure he could sleep that long in the morning he slipped away and painted all night, which was just the therapy his soul was needing. Claire rolled to him, feeling his arms pull her in and his lips whisper “good morning, love.” His cell phone was ringing and he pulled it to his ear while he kissed his wife. The bliss was over in an instant and he sat up muttering, “Jesus, on my way.” “Did we forget something important?” “We did.” He eyed Claire like he would pounce on her any second. “But there is still time for this!” Claire shrieked with laughter when Jamie grabbed her for a tickle before jumping into his clothes to meet Darius and the engineer in the engine room. They would be hours down there and she made a mental note to sneak him a power bar or two.

Adso rubbed his face on her, purring loudly, and she stroked him absently while her mind turned the facts this way and that. During the last few days she felt different, like another person had moved into her skin. She was always aware now that she was Casper and narrowly escaped a tortured existence of a forced marriage to Frank followed by a short life as Hesser’s secret agent. Now she spent her day feeling grateful for being on this yacht, married to Jamie, with wonderful people around her. Jamie was right. They forgot who they were, lulled into a false sense of security when there was still so much to fear. Now, every touch, every smile, and every encounter with her shipmates felt like a miracle. Claire poured a coffee and joined Maia and Danny at the table. Maia was searching the internet for party guests to help Danny remember them all and kept getting stuck on the celebrities, her research hijacked for her personal fascination with famous people. “Ah, dearest Claire, you must come to the foredeck and examine the plants. The boxes have become overrun with bugs. Come.” Danny looked stricken with the discovery of bugs and once outside Claire looked closely at each box bursting with colorful, healthy blooms. “I’m sorry for the ruse. I have news from my attorney, Kevin. I’m afraid it is not good. Now that the money has been transferred and the doctors are involved, they have not found a suitable match for Jamie’s skin. Apparently, Caucasian skin is the hardest to find. I know Jamie is tense and ready to go at a moment’s notice. Please tell him to relax until we hear more.” Claire knew Jamie would be disappointed. He was so focused on the procedure and the life they would have once it was done. Keeping an eye out for him she got caught up in the heightened energy on the boat. They were moving the yacht to the historic Newport Harbor to prepare for the party in two days. Everything was coming together except Danny, who acted stranger by the minute. Claire stared at her good friend and wondered if she was nervous about her date for the party. “How will you have your hair done for the party, Danny?” Danny looked pale when she turned to Claire. “I hadn’t thought of it.” “Can we play around for a bit, just to try a couple things? Darius and Jamie will move the boat once done with the engineer, and Maia is hopelessly lost reading about movie stars, so why not, c’mon. Claire tried several styles on Danny’s hair, scrunching up her nose and shaking her head before trying another. Danny told her any of the styles would be fine, wondering what Claire was hoping to do. “This haircut and color are so great, especially with the sweeping side. It’s alluring… mysterious,” Claire cleared her throat, “sexy.” Danny stared at Claire for a minute and then burst out in laughter that was uncontrollable while she sputtered the word sexy. “My dear Claire, I haven’t laughed like that in so long, thank you. I am sixty-eight years old and sexy isn’t allowed at my age. It’s a sin against nature or something. I wasn’t sexy in my twenties, for heaven’s sake.” Claire watched Danny’s nervous fidgeting, heard the edge in her voice, and saw her complexion pale. She was a mess, plain and simple. Claire needed to distract her for some pre-date therapy and ran to her rooms to scoop up her best hair combs. She asked Danny to sit back and relax so she could try the different hair ornaments, and she talked while she worked. “So much has gone on recently, I haven’t been able to ask you about the gorgeous Sam Elliot. How is it you know him?” Claire kept brushing, knowing it was an anxiety smasher. “We met at the annual Julliard fundraiser in New York, five years ago. He was seated next to me and kept me in the most delightful conversation. He’s very witty and charming. We went to dinner the next night and then he was back to California because he was filming a movie. We keep in touch, have dinner when we’re in the same city, and that’s it. I hear from him every few months.” “So he really likes you, Danny! It is the only reason a

[pooktales]

Greymane’s Garters

I made up a fake history because ‘Greymane’s Garters’ is so fun to say and imagine. Enjoy!

The Order of the Grey Garter, more popularly known as "Greymane's Garters", has origins comingled in Human myth and legend. It is now considered somewhat ridiculous, as it instantly conjures a mental image of the noble King Greymane of Gilneas, him covered head to toe in white fur as he is in Worgen form, but for some reason wearing a pink-and-gray frilly woman's garter strapped to his leg.

Image: from ebay (only 1 left!)

This, I assure you, Greymane's Garters are not! They are hardly a male Worgen lingerie trend, but an order of noble knights and also so much more. Firstly, female Worgen find themselves members of this ancient order as well. Secondly, the garter is only a symbol--today it is often worn around the arm at ceremony or as a badge, a flat pink-and-gray belt coiled in a hoop and showing its buckle, that it was once considered part of suit of armor to help keep plate buckled over the legs. Only attend a Greymane's Garters initiation and see for yourself and you can be assured of this. The members proudly wear very little but their fur, to show they have at least embraced their Worgen side (this is a subject of contention even within this royal order, but they at least agree fur is alright). So the wearing of yes, admittedly, skimpy clothing to show off fur and the traditional garter around the leg is a thing. But if it is not buckled around the leg, then it goes proudly on the arm above the bicep, or on a cape--it may look strange indeed to the unschooled, but it is an honorable form of dress. Greymane’s Garters are not 'furries in SM gear' whatever the modern youth mean by that. A Greymane's Garter would maw you and strap you to a pole or a bedframe or some other handy torture device if they ever heard you calling their order a low-key furry headcanon, never that.

Military History

The order was first formed in the Second War. Under pressure to conform to the standards and military norms of the Alliance of Lordaeron, Gilnean leadership made a pledge that they would stay a distinct force as far as they could, focused solely on the political advantage of their own kingdom. As such, they felt a need to distinguish their military leaders on the battlefield with a brand that could not be overtaken by the blue and gold Alliance regalia. Their other goal was to remind their soldiers that their home kingdom, Gilneas, should always be the priority. Of course, this manifested itself in only a token support force sent to aid the Alliance at that time, all of them good-looking men in excellent polished plate, saying things like 'What ho!' and also 'Get gabbin' or get goin!' which were practiced phrases to deflect accountability. They made it subtly clear that they were only interested in doing those tasks for the Alliance that would further Gilnean interests. And they defiantly wore their pink, gray and white garters high up their thighs. The grey garter became an emblem of their stalwart resistance to Alliance assimilation. The effort was a great success from the Gilnean perspective. Not long after the first Greymane's Garters arrived in Lordaeron, the Alliance despaired at them, actually, and didn't prod the Gilnean King for any more his "help". And then the Greymane’s Garters went back home after the conflict and eventually the Gilnean wall went up too, which certain Alliance leaders were pretty relieved for, even if they couldn’t say it. The wall also had the effect of ‘keeping it over on their side’.

Mythical Origins

The more mythical origins of the Greymane’s Garters involve a magical Grey Lady who walked out of the Emerald Dream one evening in the forests of Gilneas, accompanied by gray feydragons. Everything she touched turned into a gray mist. A knight set out to slay her, believing she was a witch, but instead, she mesmerized him and inspired him to gather his fellow knights to return to her and perform a great task that would, she said 'Make little sense now, but will mean everything to saving your kin' in the far future. They Great Grey Knight then returned to the mists as the Grey Lady bade him, with three axemen, five lancers, and twenty-six cavalry men. And then, standing in a circle, she gave them all the garters of their order to wear, attaching them to their legs and buckling each to cinch proud and tight. And then she showed them a traditional dance. It was the gray dance of death that much empahsized squats and lunges with the legs, later used to train King Greymane's personal guard for ages, who one day kept him alive during the conflict with Sylvanas.

Competing accounts say the first Greymane’s Garters never learned a fighting technique, but they did serve her special gray ritual wine made from special silver grapes. And she made them grill her delicious capon and venison for supper. In exchange for that, what she taught the knights was how to create a 'Grey Garter', a special kind of powdered sugar dough dessert that is made in loops of pastry. This sparkling gray dough dessert was passed down in the Gilnean court and would still be cooked today if not for the disruption, again, of Sylvanas laying waste to Gilneas.

Modern Findings

Today, historians cannot find any real evidence connecting the myth of the Grey Lady to the military dance of Greymane's personal guard. (If it can even be considered a dance.) Nor can they say with confidence that a legend of that era really would be an elaborate way to convey a few cooking recipes involving gray food. Most recent research makes a more practical suggestion as to the actual events concerning the Grey Lady. That is, the knights soon discovered the Grey Lady was in fact a witch, or at least a very strange woman with the skill of a pressure salesman and a lot of mist handy where she happened to live in the forest. She clearly had a thing for knights wearing garters so halfway through their weird dinner-date, the men who weren't drunk and drugged off their feet got together and slayed her. They vowed, there and then, to come up with a better story for what happened and be 'reborn in blood'. From there on, the 'grey garter' story became a joke among the Gilnean nobility descended from these surviving knights, and when an opportunity eventually came up during the Second War to give the Alliance of Lordaeron the proverbial middle finger for making them provide aid against the Orcs, the Gilnean nobility reached back for the 'grey garters' story, layered some more meaning in it, and then made it a part official military dress. As an in-joke among the Gilnean crusty uppercrust. The rest, as they say, is history.

Motto

The motto "reborn from blood" has passed into common parlance of course, though many Gilneans may not even realize it. One often meets a Gilnean or a Worgen who, thinking of the turmoil their people have endured, make the remark that Gilneas will be reborn from the blood of their enemies. This derives from none other than the Greymane’s Garters.

Source: wish.com

The Ribbon

As you can see, the ribbon itself has changed over time. First, in the era of the Grey Lady myth, it was a very tribal-looking chevron in white, pink and gray colors. Later, it was a bold pink-and-gray plaid. Even later, due to lack of resources and the loss of the kingdom to Sylvanas' forces, it was mainly the sort of spider's silk, large swaths of pink ribbon were easier to come by in Darnassus where most Gilnean refugees settled.

The pink color of the Darnassian iteration (also referred to as the Gilnean diaspora, so show some respect) isn't "girly" as some consider it. First of all, pink is a color, it doesn't “belong” to anyone. Second of all, the whole thing was going to be abandoned when the order was re-formed after the fall of Gilneas recently, but many of the prouder Worgen members insisted it was also the color of roses, or raw meat or flesh, which connects back to that side of the Gilnean experience. Gray connects back with Greymane and white is the color of a new moon, of hope, of Greymane's own fur hide. So they keep all the colors, pink, gray and white, intermingled whether in the traditional plaid pattern or the primal, very bold chevron that can be easily seen strapped to a Gilnean's leg across the battlefield. Or, yes. In frilly Darnassian pink if that's what's available.

Notable Members of Greymane's Garters

King Archibald Greymane

King Genn Greymane (current sovereign)

Princess Tess Greymane

Queen Mia Greymane

Lord Darius Crowley

Lorna Crowley

Lord Vincent Godfrey (posthumously stripped of rank due to treason)

Speculation

It is rumored that King Anduin Wrynn has been offered a place in the Greymane’s Garters (with a special exception made for his devotion to Stormwind of course). However, Greymane is most likely still awaiting confirmation that Anduin will accept. Undoubtedly he will, of course! Anduin’s biggest reservation is said to be ‘Wait, aren’t those guys a furry group that wears underwear on the outside? This is for real?’ Though SI: 7 refuses to comment on whether the the young king actually said this. It may be that Genn is waiting for Anduin to mature some more before offering Greymane’s Garter again. Or, it may be that other rumors are true, that Anduin is prepared to make his own royal order of garter-wearing knights if he has to, to get out of wearing fancy underwear given to him by Greymane.

Because, of course, two garters on both of Anduin’s legs, ontop of his armor? One leg pink and the other blue? That would look completely ridiculous and anyone would obviously agree.

Unless you are a proud member of Greymane’s Garters that is!!

-fin-

[hockeysweetheart]

My point of this is literally anything Romantic with Gale Peeta’s name isn’t far behind...  I mean who can blame her .... 

Catching Fire Chapter 2

Then I looked up and there he was, ten feet away, just watching me. Without even thinking, I jumped up and threw my arms around him, making some weird sound that combined laughing, choking, and crying. He was holding me so tightly that I couldn't see his face, but it was a really long time before he let me go and then he didn't have much choice, because I'd gotten this unbelievably loud case of the hiccups and had to get a drink. We did what we always did that day. Ate breakfast. Hunted and fished and gathered. Talked about people in town. But not about us, his new life in the mines, my time in the arena. Just about other things. By the time we were at the hole in the fence that's nearest the Hob, I think I really believed that things could be the same. That we could go on as we always had. I'd given all the game to Gale to trade since we had so much food now. I told him I'd skip the Hob, even though I was looking forward to going there, because my mother and sister didn't even know I'd gone hunting and they'd be wondering where I was. Then suddenly, as I was suggesting I take over the daily snare run, he took my face in his hands and kissed me. I was completely unprepared. You would think that after all the hours I'd spent with Gale - watching him talk and laugh and frown - that I would know all there was to know about his lips. But I hadn't imagined how warm they would feel pressed against my own. Or how those hands, which could set the most intricate of snares, could as easily entrap me. I think I made some sort of noise in the back of my throat, and I vaguely remember my fingers, curled tightly closed, resting on his chest. Then he let go and said, "I had to do that. At least once." And he was gone. Despite the fact that the sun was setting and my family would be worried, I sat by a tree next to the fence. I tried to decide how I felt about the kiss, if I had liked it or resented it, but all I really remembered was the pressure of Gale's lips and the scent of the oranges that still lingered on his skin. It was pointless comparing it with the many kisses I'd exchanged with Peeta. I still hadn't figured out if any of those counted. Finally I went home. That week I managed the snares and dropped off the meat with Hazelle. But I didn't see Gale until Sunday. I had this whole speech worked out, about how I didn't want a boyfriend and never planned on marrying, but I didn't end up using it. Gale acted as if the kiss had never happened. Maybe he was waiting for me to say something. Or kiss him back. Instead I just pretended it had never happened, either. But it had. Gale had shattered some invisible barrier between us and, with it, any hope I had of resuming our old, uncomplicated friendship. Whatever I pretended, I could never look at his lips in quite the same way.

Chapter 7 Catching Fire 

"I've heard enough for the moment. Let's skip ahead to this plan of yours," he says. I take a deep breath. "We run away." "What?" he asks. This has actually caught him off guard. "We take to the woods and make a run for it," I say. His face is impossible to read. Will he laugh at me, dismiss this as foolishness? I rise in agitation, preparing for an argument. "You said yourself you thought that we could do it! That morning of the reaping. You said - " He steps in and I feel myself lifted off the ground. The room spins, and I have to lock my arms around Gale's neck to brace myself. He's laughing, happy. "Hey!" I protest, but I'm laughing, too. Gale sets me down but doesn't release his hold on me. "Okay, let's run away," he says. "Really? You don't think I'm mad? You'll go with me?" Some of the crushing weight begins to lift as it transfers to Gale's shoulders. "I do think you're mad and I'll still go with you," he says. He means it. Not only means it but welcomes it. "We can do it. I know we can. Let's get out of here and never come back!" "You're sure?" I say. "Because it's going to be hard, with the kids and all. I don't want to get five miles into the woods and have you - " "I'm sure. I'm completely, entirely, one hundred percent sure." He tilts his forehead down to rest against mine and pulls me closer. His skin, his whole being, radiates heat from being so near the fire, and I close my eyes, soaking in his warmth. I breathe in the smell of snow-dampened leather and smoke and apples, the smell of all those wintry days we shared before the Games. I don't try to move away. Why should I, anyway? His voice drops to a whisper. "I love you." That's why. I never see these things coming. They happen too fast. One second you're proposing an escape plan and the next... you're expected to deal with something like this. I come up with what must be the worst possible response. "I know." It sounds terrible. Like I assume he couldn't help loving me but that I don't feel anything in return. Gale starts to draw away, but I grab hold of him. "I know! And you... you know what you are to me." It's not enough. He breaks my grip. "Gale, I can't think about anyone that way now. All I can think about, every day, every waking minute since they drew Prim's name at the reaping, is how afraid I am. And there doesn't seem to be room for anything else. If we could get somewhere safe, maybe I could be different. I don't know." I can see him swallowing his disappointment. "So, we'll go. We'll find out." He turns back to the fire, where the chestnuts are beginning to burn. He flips them out onto the hearth. "My mother's going to take some convincing." I guess he's still going, anyway. But the happiness has fled, leaving an all-too-familiar strain in its place. "Mine, too. I'll just have to make her see reason. Take her for a long walk. Make sure she understands we won't survive the alternative." "She'll understand. I watched a lot of the Games with her and Prim. She won't say no to you," says Gale. "I hope not." The temperature in the house seems to have dropped twenty degrees in a matter of seconds. "Haymitch will be the real challenge." "Haymitch?" Gale abandons the chestnuts. "You're not asking him to come with us?" "I have to, Gale. I can't leave him and Peeta because they'd - " His scowl cuts me off. "What?" "I'm sorry. I didn't realize how large our party was," he snaps at me.

"They'd torture them to death, trying to find out where I was," I say.

"What about Peeta's family? They'll never come. In fact, they probably couldn't wait to inform on us. Which I'm sure he's smart enough to realize. What if he decides to stay?" he asks.

I try to sound indifferent, but my voice cracks. "Then he stays."

"You'd leave him behind?" Gale asks.

"To save Prim and my mother, yes," I answer. "I mean, no! I'll get him to come."

"And me, would you leave me?" Gale's expression is rock hard now. "Just if, for instance, I can't convince my mother to drag three young kids into the wilderness in winter."

"Hazelle won't refuse. She'll see sense," I say.

"Suppose she doesn't, Katniss. What then?" he demands.

"Then you have to force her, Gale. Do you think I'm making this stuff up?" My voice is rising in anger as well.

"No. I don't know. Maybe the president's just manipulating you. I mean, he's throwing your wedding. You saw how the Capitol crowd reacted. I don't think he can afford to kill you. Or Peeta. How's he going to get out of that one?" says Gale.

"Well, with an uprising in District Eight, I doubt he's spending much time choosing my wedding cake!" I shout.

The instant the words are out of my mouth I want to reclaim them. Their effect on Gale is immediate - the flush on his cheeks, the brightness of his gray eyes. "There's an uprising in Eight?" he says in a hushed voice. I try to backpedal. To defuse him, as I tried to defuse the districts. "I don't know if it's really an uprising. There's unrest. People in the streets - " I say. Gale grabs my shoulders. "What did you see?" "Nothing! In person. I just heard something." As usual, it's too little, too late. I give up and tell him. "I saw something on the mayor's television. I wasn't supposed to. There was a crowd, and fires, and the Peacekeepers were gunning people down but they were fighting back. ..." I bite my lip and struggle to continue describing the scene. Instead I say aloud the words that have been eating me up inside. "And it's my fault, Gale. Because of what I did in the arena. If I had just killed myself with those berries, none of this would've happened. Peeta could have come home and lived, and everyone else would have been safe, too." "Safe to do what?" he says in a gentler tone. "Starve? Work like slaves? Send their kids to the reaping? You haven't hurt people - you've given them an opportunity. They just have to be brave enough to take it. There's already been talk in the mines. People who want to fight. Don't you see? It's happening! It's finally happening! If there's an uprising in District Eight, why not here? Why not everywhere? This could be it, the thing we've been - " "Stop it! You don't know what you're saying. The Peacekeepers outside of Twelve, they're not like Darius, or even Cray! The lives of district people - they mean less than nothing to them!" I say. "That's why we have to join the fight!" he answers harshly. "No! We have to leave here before they kill us and a lot of other people, too!" I'm yelling again, but I can't understand why he's doing this. Why doesn't he see what's so undeniable? Gale pushes me roughly away from him. "You leave, then. I'd never go in a million years." "You were happy enough to go before. I don't see how an uprising in District Eight does anything but make it more important that we leave. You're just mad about - " No, I can't throw Peeta in his face. "What about your family?" "What about the other families, Katniss? The ones who can't run away? Don't you see? It can't be about just saving us anymore. Not if the rebellion's begun!" Gale shakes his head, not hiding his disgust with me. "You could do so much." He throws Cinna's gloves at my feet. "I changed my mind. I don't want anything they made in the Capitol." And he's gone.

Chapter 8 Catching Fire 

Does everyone look younger asleep? Because right now he could be the boy I ran into in the woods years ago, the one who accused me of stealing from his traps. What a pair we were - fatherless, frightened, but fiercely committed, too, to keeping our families alive. Desperate, yet no longer alone after that day, because we'd found each other. I think of a hundred moments in the woods, lazy afternoons fishing, the day I taught him to swim, that time I twisted my knee and he carried me home. Mutually counting on each other, watching each other's backs, forcing each other to be brave. For the first time, I reverse our positions in my head. I imagine watching Gale volunteering to save Rory in the reaping, having him torn from my life, becoming some strange girl's lover to stay alive, and then coming home with her. Living next to her. Promising to marry her. The hatred I feel for him, for the phantom girl, for everything, is so real and immediate that it chokes me. Gale is mine. I am his. Anything else is unthinkable. Why did it take him being whipped within an inch of his life to see it? Because I'm selfish. I'm a coward. I'm the kind of girl who, when she might actually be of use, would run to stay alive and leave those who couldn't follow to suffer and die. This is the girl Gale met in the woods today. No wonder I won the Games. No decent person ever does. You saved Peeta, I think weakly. But now I question even that. I knew good and well that my life back in District 12 would be unlivable if I let that boy die. I rest my head forward on the edge of the table, overcome with loathing for myself. Wishing I had died in the arena. Wishing Seneca Crane had blown me to bits the way President Snow said he should have when I held out the berries. The berries. I realize the answer to who I am lies in that handful of poisonous fruit. If I held them out to save Peeta because I knew I would be shunned if I came back without him, then I am despicable. If I held them out because I loved him, I am still self-centered, although forgivable. But if I held them out to defy the Capitol, I am someone of worth. The trouble is, I don't know exactly what was going on inside me at that moment. Could it be the people in the districts are right? That it was an act of rebellion, even if it was an unconscious one? Because, deep down, I must know it isn't enough to keep myself, or my family, or my friends alive by running away. Even if I could. It wouldn't fix anything. It wouldn't stop people from being hurt the way Gale was today. Life in District 12 isn't really so different from life in the arena. At some point, you have to stop running and turn around and face whoever wants you dead. The hard thing is finding the courage to do it. Well, it's not hard for Gale. He was born a rebel. I'm the one making an escape plan. "I'm so sorry," I whisper. I lean forward and kiss him. His eyelashes flutter and he looks at me through a haze of opiates. "Hey, Catnip." "Hey, Gale," I say. "Thought you'd be gone by now," he says. My choices are simple. I can die like quarry in the woods or I can die here beside Gale. "I'm not going anywhere. I'm going to stay right here and cause all kinds of trouble." "Me, too," Gale says. He just manages a smile before the drugs pull him back under.

Chapter  9 Mockingjay 

By the time we reach the town square, afternoon's sinking into evening. I take Cressida to the rubble of the bakery and ask her to film something. The only emotion I can muster is exhaustion. "Peeta, this is your home. None of your family has been heard of since the bombing. Twelve is gone. And you're calling for a cease-fire?" I look across the emptiness. "There's no one left to hear you." As we stand before the lump of metal that was the gallows, Cressida asks if either of us has ever been tortured. In answer, Gale pulls off his shirt and turns his back to the camera. I stare at the lash marks, and again hear the whistling of the whip, see his bloody figure hanging unconscious by his wrists. "I'm done," I announce. "I'll meet you at the Victor's Village. Something for...my mother." I guess I walked here, but the next thing I'm conscious of is sitting on the floor in front of the kitchen cabinets of our house in the Victor's Village. Meticulously lining ceramic jars and glass bottles into a box. Placing clean cotton bandages between them to prevent breaking. Wrapping bunches of dried flowers. Suddenly, I remember the rose on my dresser. Was it real? If so, is it still up there? I have to resist the temptation to check. If it's there, it will only frighten me all over again. I hurry with my packing. When the cabinets are empty, I rise to find that Gale has materialized in my kitchen. It's disturbing how soundlessly he can appear. He's leaning on the table, his fingers spread wide against the wood grain. I set the box between us. "Remember?" he asks. "This is where you kissed me." So the heavy dose of morphling administered after the whipping wasn't enough to erase that from his consciousness. "I didn't think you'd remember that," I say. "Have to be dead to forget. Maybe even not then," he tells me. "Maybe I'll be like that man in 'The Hanging Tree.' Still waiting for an answer." Gale, who I have never seen cry, has tears in his eyes. To keep them from spilling over, I reach forward and press my lips against his. We taste of heat, ashes, and misery. It's a surprising flavor for such a gentle kiss. He pulls away first and gives me a wry smile. "I knew you'd kiss me." "How?" I say. Because I didn't know myself. "Because I'm in pain," he says. "That's the only way I get your attention." He picks up the box. "Don't worry, Katniss. It'll pass." He leaves before I can answer.

Chapter 14 Mockingjay 

Gale makes a sound of exasperation. Nonetheless, after we've dropped off the birds and volunteered to go back to the woods to gather kindling for the evening fire, I find myself wrapped in his arms. His lips brushing the faded bruises on my neck, working their way to my mouth. Despite what I feel for Peeta, this is when I accept deep down that he'll never come back to me. Or I'll never go back to him. I'll stay in 2 until it falls, go to the Capitol and kill Snow, and then die for my trouble. And he'll die insane and hating me. So in the fading light I shut my eyes and kiss Gale to make up for all the kisses I've withheld, and because it doesn't matter anymore, and because I'm so desperately lonely I can't stand it. Gale's touch and taste and heat remind me that at least my body's still alive, and for the moment it's a welcome feeling. I empty my mind and let the sensations run through my flesh, happy to lose myself. When Gale pulls away slightly, I move forward to close the gap, but I feel his hand under my chin. "Katniss," he says. The instant I open my eyes, the world seems disjointed. This is not our woods or our mountains or our way. My hand automatically goes to the scar on my left temple, which I associate with confusion. "Now kiss me." Bewildered, unblinking, I stand there while he leans in and presses his lips to mine briefly. He examines my face closely. "What's going on in your head?" "I don't know," I whisper back. "Then it's like kissing someone who's drunk. It doesn't count," he says with a weak attempt at a laugh. He scoops up a pile of kindling and drops it in my empty arms, returning me to myself. "How do you know?" I say, mostly to cover my embarrassment. "Have you kissed someone who's drunk?" I guess Gale could've been kissing girls right and left back in 12. He certainly had enough takers. I never thought about it much before. He just shakes his head. "No. But it's not hard to imagine." "So, you never kissed any other girls?" I ask. "I didn't say that. You know, you were only twelve when we met. And a real pain besides. I did have a life outside of hunting with you," he says, loading up with firewood. Suddenly, I'm genuinely curious. "Who did you kiss? And where?" "Too many to remember. Behind the school, on the slag heap, you name it," he says. I roll my eyes. "So when did I become so special? When they carted me off to the Capitol?" "No. About six months before that. Right after New Year's. We were in the Hob, eating some slop of Greasy Sae's. And Darius was teasing you about trading a rabbit for one of his kisses. And I realized...I minded," he tells me

I remember that day. Bitter cold and dark by four in the afternoon. We'd been hunting, but a heavy snow had driven us back into town. The Hob was crowded with people looking for refuge from the weather. Greasy Sae's soup, made with stock from the bones of a wild dog we'd shot a week earlier, was below her usual standards. Still, it was hot, and I was starving as I scooped it up, sitting cross-legged on her counter. Darius was leaning on the post of the stall, tickling my cheek with the end of my braid, while I smacked his hand away. He was explaining why one of his kisses merited a rabbit, or possibly two, since everyone knows redheaded men are the most virile. And Greasy Sae and I were laughing because he was so ridiculous and persistent and kept pointing out women around the Hob who he said had paid far more than a rabbit to enjoy his lips. "See? The one in the green muffler? Go ahead and ask her.If you need a reference." A million miles from here, a billion days ago, this happened. "Darius was just joking around," I say.

"Probably. Although you'd be the last to figure out if he wasn't," Gale tells me. "Take Peeta. Take me. Or even Finnick. I was starting to worry he had his eye on you, but he seems back on track now."

"You don't know Finnick if you think he'd love me," I say.Gale shrugs. "I know he was desperate. That makes people do all kinds of crazy things."I can't help thinking that's directed at me.

[ellariasand]

i’m not gonna teach him how to dance with you

pairing: frank castle x karen page summary: frank's helping karen with a story. some slight miscalculations put them in serious trouble. rating: t warnings: references to sexual situations & canon-typical violence - no actual depictions of either; swearing word count: 8.2k (sweet jesus) a/n: i’m not particularly used to posting my writing on tumblr (you can find this same piece along with others over on my AO3), so this is new for me! big props to @peoniesforfrankcastle for pitching me the softball of “what do you think would happen if frank and karen ended up in their own version of the landlord threesome situation from new girl??”, because that’s a normal thing to discuss at 1:30 in the morning on a saturday. enjoy!

“You’re sure this is the place?” 

It’s pissing rain outside the pathetic blue Jetta Frank’s sitting in — because of course it is. It’s dark, it’s wet, and the only thing he can see properly is the profile of Karen Page’s face, highlighted by soft blue dashboard lights. It’s cold, he’s not dressed properly, and he’d be at home in bed if not for her. He’d be warm, comfortable, and not packing three different pistols on various parts of his body. He’d be, for as much as the Punisher can be, safe. 

But Karen, despite every warning and caution and threat to her life, never quite knew when to quit.

She’s packing quite a different arsenal as she sits in the passenger seat, hands still covered in glitter from the bachelorette party she’d been at an hour earlier. Marci had insisted, she claimed as she checked the clip on her own gun, just an hour to say hi — but Frank knew better. Just an hour, he thinks as she makes sure her tape recorder’s working, is an hour she doesn’t have to think about what she’s about to do. 

“Wouldn’t be here if I wasn’t.”

She sounds absolutely certain as she speaks, even though Frank can see her hand shake as she stuffs the gun and the tape into her coat pocket. Her research is sound, her head screwed on straight, her plan well-equipped. (Well, perhaps not so much her plan as the plan Madani and Frank helped her make, but it’s all the same to her.) She’s Darius and Daniel all at once, throwing herself into the lion’s den without even a backwards glance. 

She’s here for a story, and she’s going to get what she wants, no matter how it scares the shit out of her. 

Or Frank, for that matter. 

“You’re dead sure?”

His voice is as deadpan as it was the first time he asked - all bite, no bark. Someone once joked that he sounds like he gargles with rocks when he does that, pulls out the Marine voice. The voice meant for giving and receiving orders, not sitting in a Volkswagen with a Bulletin reporter helping her with a story. Apparently, it’s as intimidating as the bruises perennially darkening the orbitals of his eyes - not that he’d be able to tell, the way Karen responds to him.  

“Yes, Frank.” She sounds as impassive as he does, if not more. He can’t read her expression in the low light, but he’s sure it’s as stolid as his. “Why are you so concerned about it?” 

All he can think to do is scoff as she pats herself down in a quick double-check.

“Because I’d’ve appreciated it if you’d told me we were going to a Cooley gun club instead of having to hear about it from Lieberman.” 

If he couldn’t read her expression before, he can now. It drops like a sack of bricks, and for all that his voice suddenly sounds upset, Frank can practically feel the weight of it hit his chest as the frown envelops her entire face. It dents her eyebrows, creases her forehead like some imitation of a child’s origami project. It’s a frown of surprise, not dissimilar to the ones he used to see on Lisa when he caught her reading past her bedtime. She’s been caught with her hand in the metaphorical cookie jar. 

Even if Lieberman hadn’t tattled, Frank would’ve figured it out eventually. Anyone north of 119th this late was asking for trouble, if not pointing the gun at their forehead themselves. Even he didn’t stray this far if he didn’t have to. Not if he wasn’t on a job. Once Central Park was in their rear-view, he’d gripped the Weston under his jacket a little more tightly.  

Karen’s parked herself right in the middle of a warzone, and judging by the loss of confidence in her expression, she knows it.  

“I didn’t want to lose my chance at getting you to help,” she mutters. She sounds as much of a spitfire as she did before, but the way she’s gripping her coat sleeves betrays her real reaction. “David knew?”

“‘Course he did.” Frank scoffs. “Guy can hack the NS-fuckin’-A, you think your laptop’s any different?” 

Karen’s frown deepens, the delicate origami construction of her face crumpling. 

“So that’s why you agreed to come,” she says quietly. It’s almost enough to make Frank regret his choice of words. Almost, if not for the truth of what they’re about to do weighing down on his shoulders.

“You can’t just...throw yourself in with the Kitchen Irish, Karen,” he replies, firmly but carefully. 

“I did it with Grotto.” 

It’s like she doesn’t even think before the words are out of her mouth. She’s so sure of herself. It scares Frank. Just enough. 

“Yeah,” he says, “And look how that turned out.”

“With you in the driver’s seat of my car, wearing a tape wire and helping me with a story.” Karen’s still wearing the frown, but she’s repurposed it now. Outfitted it to her advantage. Crumpled the paper and refolded it - treasure out of trash. “Not too bad in the grand scheme of things.” 

She says it with a shrug and a nonchalant glance over at him, and Frank can’t muster much beyond an incredulous laugh in response. A small part of him knows he’d walk through all seven circles of hell with weights tied to his legs if it meant helping Karen with a story, but sometimes he wonders how she does it - looks danger in the face and laughs like it’s nothing more than a carnival clown, there for her amusement. Like the few inches of column space she’s afforded can be weaponized as much as the Ruger she keeps in her purse. 

Karen dances with devils and comes out in first place every time, and Frank should know. He’s one of them. 

“We get in, you talk to the guy, we get out, alright?” 

He says it with a deadpan that hardly hides how much he’d rather taken Karen right back home, but he doesn’t stop Karen from fixing her lipstick in the mirror, doesn’t stop himself from checking that all three of his pistols are loaded and ready to go. The faster they’re in, the faster they’re out, and the less he has to feel his heart pounding in his chest like an animal trying to escape its cage. 

“No funny business.” 

Karen’s nod in response is perfunctory - she’s thirty-two, not twelve. She knows how this works. Frank knows that too, but the words come out anyway, in some vain attempt to reassure himself that what they were about to do wasn’t completely and utterly batshit. They’re more of a mantra than a command, and Karen’s response comes quickly on their heels as she pops open the door to the Jetta.

“People say my sense of humor is surprisingly dry.” 

Frank Castle has, thus far, simply been too angry to die. No other way to phrase it. He’s been shot, tortured, run through, hit by cars, and electrocuted, amongst a handful of other, unmentionable things. He’s gone through more injuries than a child’s video game character, and yet he’s gotten back up, beaten and bruised, every time, without fail. Whether it’s stubbornness or just rage, no one can ever really tell. 

But, he thinks as she smirks and hops out of the car, Karen Page might just end up being the death of him.

___________

The club they end up loitering outside of is dark, barely more than a husk of a building on the outside. It’s creative, the amount of effort these scumbags put into disguising themselves in plain sight, despite their existence being as common knowledge as the Harlem bus schedule. Decrepit storefronts, butcher shop basements, even the occasional apartment over a nail salon. Real estate in New York is slim, and Frank’s seen just about all of it - and a disproportionate amount of it with Karen at his side. 

He doesn’t understand how he keeps getting dragged into these places, these undercover ops for information held so closely it might as well be fantasy. He doesn’t understand how Karen gets herself involved, much less convinces him on nothing more than a hunch and a prayer to follow at her heels, sneaking about like Zoey when she’s trying to dart out the apartment door before Karen can catch her. 

He is, as Lieberman not-so-lightly puts it, built like a brick shithouse — sneaking isn’t particularly his style. Pretending to be someone else is something he’s done enough of in his everyday life. The life belonging to Pete. The life that doesn’t quite fit right - a present from an overbearing grandparent that collects dust in the basement from disuse. An old shirt, run through the wash one too many times that ends up stretched and worn, too grimy and ugly for everyday use. 

The only parts of that life that seem to fit right are the ones with Karen in them. Even if they involve breaking the law. 

The both of them are soaked by the time they’ve made it down the street, out of sight of their little blue getaway vehicle but in too much of a hurry to have bothered with an umbrella. Mercifully, there’s an overhang, and in some stroke of luck, the Irish at least have the courtesy to answer quickly when Karen knocks at the peeling wooden door with bare knuckles. 

She’s good at that, sneaking right in the front door instead of prowling around out back. Good enough that Frank can only stare in silence as she barely blinks  at a burly, dark-haired man opening the door, drilling her with enough questions to unsettle a Marine. He watches intently as she tosses around names Frank’s never heard, places he’s never been like she’s at some kind of fucked up family reunion. She calls him Robert and herself Harriet, and all he can think as they’re invited to cross the threshold is that at least it isn’t Pete. 

The inside of the club looks more inviting than the outside, but Frank’s eyes are too busy scanning the interior for exits to notice the furnishings. He lets Karen do all the flattering as they’re dragged through room after room, past locked door after locked door, each one more and more concerning as Karen makes inane comments his ears barely hear. He’d been primed on all the exits - and that did mean all - but the anonymity of what lay behind those dark panels of wood doesn’t bode very well for them. 

He manages to count sixteen separate doors by the time one of them opens to invite them in. The creak of it grates on Frank’s nerves, but he pays no mind as his attention zeroes in on Karen, whose blonde hair is disappearing into a dimly lit room, leaving him to chase after her like fool’s fire. 

His eyes are practically evolved for low-lighting by now, but his pupils still blow wide as he ducks past a burly security detail and into the darkened room. He could swear he’s stepped into an old-fashioned parlor, one of those overly ornate ones from the PBS dramas Karen likes to watch. Velvety couch, paintings on the wall, the works - even that awful gold gilt that old New York money people thought was pretty, rather than like they’d plastered scrapyard salvage all over their walls. Frankly, his grandmother had had better taste in decor, but clearly the new Irish have money. And they want to prove it. 

They want to prove they can defend themselves, too, based on the three men Frank clocks the instant the door snaps shut behind them. Strapped to the gills with firepower, looking like they could take a hit from a train and not move and inch, and angry to boot. Not too dissimilar from himself, in a way, aside from the way they mold themselves around the presence of a much slimmer man, in much better clothing, looking significantly more smug. 

If Frank had to describe him, he’d say the man standing in front of he and Karen looks like one of those people mothers describe as “homely” when they’re young, but is really just the kind of person women cross the street to get away from on their commute home. Pasty, skinny, unsettling to a degree that Frank can visibly notice as Karen’s posture goes rigid. The suit he’s wearing is very obviously couture, as are his cufflinks and shoes, but it doesn’t offset the alarm bells that his general presence sets off in the both of them. Not enough to truly make either of them afraid, but enough to suck all the air out of the room in less than an instant. 

Why do all drug lords remind Frank of the rats in the 34th Street subway station?

Perhaps because of the way they sneer like this one does, overconfident and cocky when Frank knows he could crush him under the heel of his boot in one step. Perhaps because of the way they carry themselves like they own the world, own the people standing in front of them and all that they’ll ever say simply because they’re on home turf. They’re leeches of the worst kind - vacuums of airheadedness and egos so big they could stop a truck. 

Frank prays this isn’t the guy Karen’s come to see.

There’s a reason he stopped doing that. 

“Ah, Miss Smith.” 

His voice is as cocky as his face, dripping with something between venom and crude oil. His hand extends towards Karen, and Frank can only watch as she accepts it with a plastic smile. 

“What a treat to finally speak in person. And this is Mister…?”

“Martin,” Karen replies. “My partner, yes.” 

“Partner.” He says the word as if considering it, as if the answer is better than he’d been expecting...which is, ironically, the best reaction Frank’s gotten to his own presence in years. Clearly the beard he’d started growing in was doing its job as a mask. “Wonderful.” 

He’s like a cartoon villain, this guy - if cartoon villains trafficked women and had bodyguards wearing enough firepower to set a building alight. All he’s missing is a mustache to twirl. Too bad he looks too young and skinny to be able to grow one. 

“We weren’t expecting a third,” he jeers, “But in that case, would you prefer business or pleasure first?”

Karen shrugs, and Frank mirrors it. It doesn’t look as friendly coming from someone as broad-shouldered as him. 

“I suppose we could do both,” Karen says. “It’s a bit late for shooting, but I’m not opposed to firing a few rounds while we talk about the--”

The laughter that cuts Karen off is even more jeering than the Bad Bond Villain’s voice. It’s high-pitched, off-key - like the vocal equivalent of nails scratching on a chalkboard. It takes a significant amount of Frank’s restraint not to flinch as he grins at Karen, far too boldly to simply be friendly. 

“Oh no, my dear,” he replies as Karen’s mouth is left hanging open. “This isn’t that kind of club. Did Georgey not tell you?”

Karen’s mouth closes, then opens, then closes again as she blinks. Frank offers a quick “no sir” in place of a response from her, despite the fact that the closest thing he’d ever heard to the name Georgey was one of Karen’s silly pet names for her dog. Whether she’d crucify him for that, he couldn’t tell, but it was better than leaving the reject Lucky Charms man hanging. The expression on the man’s face tells him that’s a bad idea.

“His loss, my gain, then.” The man shrugs, sits up straighter in his seat. “You two are...swingers, no?”

Ah. So, not a gun club then.

Frank can feel Karen tense next to him. Not enough to alarm the asshole, but enough that he hears her breathing go shallow, notices the way she sits up that much straighter on the couch. She nods, refusing to break character, but he can see how far the comment has thrown her off course. He even goes a bit stiff himself - and not in the way the creep sitting in front of them would hope for - so he’s not sure he blames her. He can do guns, he can do knives...but this was new. 

“It’s all part of the deal.” The creep sounds far too satisfied with himself, far too pleased in reaction to Karen’s nod that wasn’t any more than perfunctory. “We give you what you need, you give us...a little something in return.”

The look he shoots at Karen is enough to make Frank’s trigger finger twitch. 

The locked doors suddenly make more sense, much the same as the furnishings that seemed slightly too impeccable for a mafia den. Everything is slightly too pristine, slightly too well-oiled for a bunch of amateurs fresh out of metaphorical diapers. No criminal gives this much of a shit about appearances unless they’re trying to impress - who that is, Frank doesn’t know, but he can only imagine the kinds of clients that run through here. A gun club in the middle of Harlem is bad enough, but this? Nothing wrong with a bit of fun if you aren’t psychotic, but...

“You traffic girls and you run a swinger’s club.” Frank’s voice sounds like he’s down an entire construction site’s worth of grave, disguising the sarcasm he can’t quite keep out of it. “Clever.”

The man nods, oblivious to Frank’s train of thought. 

“We pride ourselves on it.” Pride isn’t exactly the word Frank would use, but the emotion shows on his face anyway. “The guns are a temporary cover. While we get our hooks in, so to speak. Clearly a good cover though, eh?”

He’s teasing Karen now, clearly trying to get under the thick skin of the identity she’s created for herself. It won’t budge, Frank knows that much, but the remark still makes him shift in his seat, fighting off the urge to throttle the bastard before they’ve even gotten a word out of him. 

Frank’s never been good at holding his tongue, but he’ll do it for Karen. 

She nods at the remark, a sound coming out of her mouth that’s as far from her real laugh as Frank imagines she can possibly get. It’s a hollow tittering sound, like hearing birds chirping through the metal of a roof they’ve nested on, but it’s convincing enough for their host, whose grin borders just the slightest bit on insane. 

“We’ll give you two a moment,” he says. “Only reasonable to let you get...comfortable.”

There’s that teasing voice again, and Frank hardly has the chance to let it annoy him before one of the guards is swooping in on them, an ominous black-clad raven with an assault rifle strapped across his chest. He almost reaches out when he puts a hand at the small of Karen’s back, not quite pushing her but not letting her move of her own free will either. The cold stare Frank receives when his nerves jump is enough to tell him that he should follow, or suffer the consequences otherwise. He’s not particular to following the rules - not anymore - but he chooses to make an exception this time. 

The creep stands by as the two of them are herded away, towards a door at the far end of the parlor that hangs just ajar enough to remind Frank too much of The Shining. The darkness beyond doesn’t look promising, and the results aren’t much better as they’re herded into some kind of dimly-lit antechamber, presumably a dressing room of sorts. Broom closet would’ve been a better term for it, given the fact that Frank and Karen are nearly chest to chest once the gorilla takes his hands away and leaves the two of them in relative dark, lit only by mood lighting that does about as much for Frank’s eyesight as a flashlight with mostly-dead batteries. 

He can see about as much of Karen as he could in the Jetta, but he’s hesitant to say anything. Who knows how much of the club the Cooleys had bugged for posterity - he wouldn’t be surprised if there are cameras hidden in the tiny cracks of exposed brick he can see behind the swaths of fabric covering the walls. These types didn’t seem entirely beyond a bit of voyeurism at all. 

“You okay?” 

Frank Castle is not a man to whisper, but that’s how his voice comes out anyway; low enough that it would probably be unintelligible to cameras. It’s not as though he needs to shout in this broom closet anyway. 

Karen shakes her head, less as a response to his question and more as if she’s trying to shake cobwebs from her brain that she’d missed when she dusted last. 

“I swear to God I didn’t know this was going to happen.” She’s rambling, her sentences peeling off one after the other with no way of stopping them. “There was nothing in the notes about it. Not in the witness statements, not in the police reports...fuck, somebody should have told me or else I wouldn’t have brought you here into the middle of this—”

“Hey, hey, hey.”

Frank’s hands are on her shoulders before he can think to stop them, a grounding wire for his emotions and hers. He knows how it feels to have a plan go to shit, that feeling of the ground spinning underneath you without any recourse to stop it. He can see that feeling in Karen, the way her pupils are so blown with fear he can practically see himself in them. It’s not often that anyone can strike fear into Karen Page. 

“Shhh. It’s okay.” He’s rubbing her arms now, though perhaps a bit more for his own sake than for hers. “Even Lieberman missed it. It’s not your fault.”

It really isn’t. He’s not sure how a sex club got confused with a gun league - all euphemisms aside, even Lieberman isn’t that stupid - but the Irish must be smarter than he thinks. Or, at least, clever enough to deflect attention away from themselves. It makes sense, in the long run of things, he thinks... if you’re that kind of subway track scum that traffics human beings.

“I’ll handle it,” he mutters. “You go out the back, call Nelson or Walker or somebody, get the hell out of here. I’ve still got the tape so you’ll still get what you need, I promise. I can take care of—“

“What?”

Karen’s voice interrupts the speech that he has memorized all too well, and he short circuits. Feels his hands squeeze her shoulders in place of a question. Watches her shuffle in place, shift her weight to her hip. He’s not prepared for this. This doesn’t usually happen. 

She’s got her eyebrows raised, shoulders squared under his hands. His mouth opens, closes, then opens again. He can’t focus when she’s looking at him like that. Can barely focus when she’s looking at him at all. 

“Red door down the hall takes you out the back,” he sputters. Now was not the time for thought-out tactical plans. “I’ll get you what you need. You just get out.”

He’s not sure exactly how he’ll manage that, but he will. It’s the least he could do, in return for everything she’s--

“Frank, I’m not leaving.”

He can feel Karen’s enunciation down to his bones. It rattles her shoulders and moves the curtains that swirl around them, an energy not even Red could match if he tried. It’s an energy that speaks to the reason she’s good at her job, why and how she gets herself into situations like this, cramped in a tiny dressing room in a swingers’ club well past midnight when she could very well be at home, safe and secure without a second though otherwise. It’s an energy Frank knows all too well. 

Here she is, looking as much like a scared rabbit as Frank’s ever seen, and Karen chooses now to be stubborn. 

“You kiddin’ me?” 

His arms flop down at his sides, and the air stings his palms where they’d touched Karen’s shoulders. She’s looking straight at him now, and that’s all he can focus on - the stinging and her eyes. Both of which flare when she shrugs. 

“No, I don’t think I am,” she replies. “I don’t think “coercion via the Punisher” is a printable source.  It’s my responsibility to get this information, and if takes going a little out of my comfort zone, then I’m more than willing to—“

“The guy wants you to strip down and have sex with him, and you call that your responsibility?”

It seems like an applicable moment to pinch the bridge of his nose in frustration, had he not broken it less than a week earlier. His definition of “responsibility” might be more muddled than the average New Yorker’s, but being propositioned for a threeway in exchange for information is certainly not in his dictionary. 

“He included you in the offer too,” Karen protests, “And I’m pretty sure I just heard you say ‘I’ll handle it’.” 

“Not by playing into whatever fucked up fantasy he’s got in mind!”

He might as well have pulled the pistol out of his waistband for all the good his words did. They ricochet off the walls like stray bullets, and he can see them lodge into Karen, though the way she rolls her shoulders and stands all that much straighter proves that she’s not in any mood to back down. She never is, and he knows it. Anyone who assumes otherwise is in for the shock of their life. 

Being around Karen is like sticking your finger in an electrical socket, and Frank is a curious kid who doesn’t know when to leave well enough alone. 

“How badly do you need him to squeal?” 

He chooses the sentence carefully, measuring his words as though they can remedy the situation all on their own. He’s not good with that, figuring out what to say. Actions speak louder than words, he’d always believed that, but this is Karen’s show. Karen’s livelihood. A livelihood she’d built on words alone. 

Her expression doesn’t change. 

“Enough that I’m willing to stay,” she says. “Frank, this story could wipe out a whole new generation of Kitchen Irish before they even get started. If I get this guy to talk, they’d be busted wide open within the week. Maybe sooner.”

“Same thing could happen to your head if you say the wrong thing.”

“I’m a journalist, Frank.” Karen squirms under his gaze, but doesn’t falter. “Saying the right thing is what I get paid to do.” 

But you shouldn’t have to.

That’s what Frank wants to say. Wants to blurt it so loudly that the shit-for-brains in the next room can hear him loud and clear. Wants an excuse to bust them out of there, to avoid this situation entirely rather than subject himself to the burning gaze of this woman who doesn't know when to quit. He wants to shake some sense into Karen’s head, despite the fact that she’s about the only sensible person left in his life. 

“I emptied a clip on a man,” she says. Her words are measured, careful. “I think I can handle...that.” 

It suddenly feels like there’s not enough air in the room for both of them to breathe. 

“Fine.” 

Frank can’t tell if she’s being entirely serious, or if this is another facet to the facade she’s put on tonight - whether her bravery is manufactured entirely because she’s too persistent to walk away from a story unfinished. The room feels like it’s running circles around him, and he’s too dizzy to fight. 

“You want it?” His voice is harder now, sharper. “Let’s go in there and get it.” 

It’s not quite the Punisher persona she’s used to - it’s a little frayed around the edges, askew from being out of place - but Karen recognizes an irritated Frank when she sees one.

“I can do it by myself,” she sighs. Frank isn’t convinced - not when there’s half an army on the other side of the door and a creep who’ll undoubtedly take advantage of her the moment he turns his back. 

“Like you said,” he replies, “he said both of us.”

Karen frowns.

“You’re really going to go in there and do this just to get me to admit that I’m wrong?”

“Could do worse.”

His shoulders are too heavy with the weight of their predicament to really make his shrug convincing, but he does it anyway. Tries his hardest to look nonchalant, despite the fact that his dominant hand still burns - this time for something a bit more significant than the air it’s currently grasping at. 

“Too much longer in here and they’re going to get suspicious,” he offers. “Either we do this or we don’t. Your pick.”

He’s offering her an ultimatum. Karen fucking hates those. 

“I do the talking.” 

It’s the only thing she says while she’s shrugging off her jacket, loosening the top button on the starched, Wednesday Addams-looking blouse she’s got on. It’s the only confirmation Frank gets to shirk his own hoodie (how he’s going to finesse hiding the wire he’s wearing, he doesn’t know), before she slips out of the dressing room and back into the parlor, where Redhead Dr. No has shirked his own suit jacket, and the armed gorillas have all but disappeared. 

He can’t tell if the feeling in the pit of his stomach is regret, but it certainly makes him nauseous all the same. 

If it’s at all possible to have dimmed the already barely-lit lights of the parlor, that’s what they’d done in the time it’s taken he and Karen to argue their way into this mess. He can see the room for what it really is now that he’s removed the rose-colored glasses of playing along with Karen’s scheme: the way the room is laid out, with larger-than-usual couches, designed with open slats for things Frank didn’t even want to begin to think about. The fact that, despite being part of a much larger complex of rooms, there are no doors leading anywhere except the small antechamber, and no windows either. All that’s missing is some shitty Careless Whisper saxophone playing in the background, and even Frank wouldn’t do that song that much of a disservice. 

“Ah, the lovebirds return.”  

The phrase lovebirds makes the hair on Frank’s neck stand on end, but he beats the impulse to stir like a startled cat down just enough as their host approaches, clearly more keen than when they’d been whisked away. He’s rolled the sleeves of his shirt up, and Frank’s fairly certain he can see rope burns up and down the lengths of his arms - fresh enough that they might not even be a day old. 

That is what makes him startle. 

“It’s club policy for couples to...initiate proceedings,” their host says, with an eagerness that makes Frank want to beat it out of him. “To ensure all parties have a comfortable evening. Unless, of course, you’d like to…?”

“No, I think we’re fine.”

Karen’s face is red as she replies - not the kind of red it gets when she’s angry, but a brighter kind. It makes her look gaunt. 

“No sense breaking the rules our first time ‘round, huh?” 

The man smiles, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Very well,” he sneers. “I’ll be here. Whenever you’re ready.”

Whenever you’re ready. 

The dealer’s voice is laced with the chill of dry ice, and that fact doesn’t escape Frank. This isn’t some jaunty weekend experiment, where consent is key and anybody who isn’t comfortable can bounce when they want to. This is payment, and he expects his full share, whether they like they like it or not. 

That’s the thought that ruminates in Frank’s head as the dealer fiddles with the buttons on his perfectly-starched shirt, and Karen moves into his space enough that his vision is enveloped by her. That’s the thought as she steps in close, close enough that they can share the same breath, and that’s the thought as he considers the fact that nothing on Earth could possibly be more humiliating than this. The thought of touching and being touched in ways that don’t bear thinking about is worse than any embarrassment he’s ever suffered. Worse than any hazing his Marine buddies ever put him through, worse than any and every time he’s said something stupid and gotten himself landed in the wrong place at the wrong time. He feels stripped bare, down to the bone, and he hasn’t even taken off his clothing yet. 

But for a moment, he looks at Karen, and thinks of the way his hands burned when he touched her, and a part of him thinks, Maybe if we spin this, we can get out mostly unscathed. Maybe this won’t be so bad. Not with Karen. He thinks that, of all the people he could end up stuck here with, at least it’s her. Their foreheads are touching, and he can feel Karen skate her own hands down his arms until she’s gripping his. At this distance, he could reach out and--

But then another part of him remembers Maria, remembers that he can’t recall the last time he used those hands to do anything but cause hurt. He remembers everything he buries deep inside, under layers of Kevlar and firearms and a voice so gravelly no one could ever think that it had ever belonged to a father. He remembers all the reasons why Karen shouldn’t trust him anywhere near her, and the situation morphs, molds itself into something that could only be a disaster, could only end with both of them hurt in a way that no stitches or antiseptics or trauma nurses could ever fix. It’s inescapable, and it’s all his--

“It’s the red door, right?” 

Karen’s voice is a whisper, barely audible even when she leans in close (too close, too close, she’ll get hurt); it’s easily misconstrued as sexy, but really, it’s a well-practiced way of communicating in crisis, and Frank can hear the wobble in it even as she breathes.

He nods just enough that she can feel it, without looking like he’s doing anything but...well, setting the mood. Karen nods too, and he’s sure the both of them look fidgety - like nervous first-timers, not sure how to proceed. And it isn’t far from the truth - Frank’s got no idea how he’s going to proceed from here, but he’s nothing if not good at improvising. 

“I, ah...think you should take charge.”

This she says at full volume, loud enough that their partner can hear. Like she said - she knows when to say the right thing. 

And Frank knows enough about the fear on her face that his pistol’s out of his pocket before she can blink back tears. 

And when he blows them out of there, it isn’t a euphemism. 

_________

The sun is peeking out over the horizon line by the time the two of them stumble down the sidewalk to Karen’s walk-up. It plays peekaboo with them, reminding them that they've survived to see another day as Frank watches Karen digs for her keys in her purse. It’s stopped raining now, though the air is still muggy with its aftereffects, and they walk slowly as they approach the stairs to her building. She’s got cuts in three places on her face, and he’s got at least one broken rib, but they’re out. They’re safe. 

She’s safe. 

Her hands are still shaking though, vibrating ever so slightly as she attempts to find the right key to get them into the building. The ring jingles like an out-of-tune band, and Frank can see the frustrated, tired tears in her eyes as they slip out of her hand and onto the ground.  

“Let me.”

He stoops before she can and dutifully ignores every protest from his tired, overworked muscles as he picks the bundle of metal up from the ground. They chime their high-pitched tune as he does, muffled by the size of his hand compared to Karen’s, like wind chimes in a distant open window. She doesn’t look at him - won’t look at him, maybe - as he straightens his back, but she can’t hide her frenetic blinking from him as he does. He doesn’t blame her. This is the longest night either of them has had in years. 

He’s never sure how to fill long silences between them. He’s a man of few words, always has been, and the idea of saying anything when his entire body wants to shut down is beyond his area of comprehension right now. Is he supposed to hug her? Pat her on the back, tell her it’s alright after she watched him (not for the first time) eviscerate a handful of human beings like it’s nothing? Nothing he could possibly say can erase that. Erase everything else he’s ever done to her, every layer of hell she’s been dragged through and back out again. Silence feels like the only appropriate response, the only way to avoid dragging her through anything else. 

She’s the first to speak up, naturally. Her voice comes out soft, a quiet monotone Frank suspects she uses to disguise the fact that she’s choking back a night’s worth of emotions all at once. 

“Thanks.” She’s still not looking at him, but she doesn’t move to wipe away tears, doesn’t hide behind the high collar of her jacket to avoid him. “Do you want to…?” 

She hesitates, and Frank can nearly hear her backtracking in her head as her sentence drops off. The missing word hangs in the air, heavy and loud despite the fact that it never leaves Karen’s mouth. 

Stay. 

“I’ll be up working on this damn thing to make the deadline.” She shrugs, as though overnight shootouts and going thirty-six hours without sleep are a regular part of anyone’s workday. The laugh that comes with it is watery. “Might as well have some company.”

The scoff that escapes Frank’s mouth isn’t entirely intentional, but it isn’t accidental either. He can feel the bruised muscles in his face sting as he lets the sound ring, ducking his head to fiddle with the glittering skull trinket she keeps on her key ring. 

“Almost get your head blown off and you’re worried about a deadline,” he mutters. “Should be resting.” 

“So should you. And I know for a fact you won’t sleep a wink.” 

Karen shrugs, reaching a hand out for her keys. Frank obliges, and there’s something of a smile on his face when he does. The little skull glints in the light of the streetlamp, a sly reminder of just what kind of a mess she’d gotten herself involved with. 

“I started this story,” she asserts, “And now I'm obligated to finish it. Just like any job.”

“You think you’re gonna be able to get anything outta that wire?”

“I’ll have to,” she says. “If not, I’ll pester Turk, see what else he can get me. Maybe do a ridealong or something. I know what’s there. We saw it. I just need proof.”

Frank laughs then. Not maliciously - not really intentionally, either. It just spills out, a soft, short bark of a thing that sounds off coming from him. Frank Castle doesn’t laugh, much less like that. It’s like interference on a radio; a negative side effect of pushing the wrong button or adjusting the wrong lever. The AM channel no one ever wants to use. 

“Y’know,” he huffs, “I wonder if you don’t know when to let something die.”

It’s not that he doesn’t think before he speaks - Frank’s a smart man, he knows what happens when someone backs Karen Page into a corner. He’s seen it, from the moment she shoved that photo of his family in his face while he was chained helpless to a hospital bed, and he respects it. She’s a force to be reckoned with, a hurricane of immense proportions that doesn’t give a shit who you are or how much power you say you have if you’re in the way of the truth. Karen Page is not someone to be taken lightly. 

But she’s more than that. She’s also a human being, a woman with a life, friends, family that cares about her. She’s got more than blood on her hands and a legacy so stained she can’t even use the name her family thought to give her when she was born. She’s better than that, better than this ugly, misshapen world they’ve both found themselves in whether they like it or not. She’s the best goddamn thing to happen to New York - hell, the country, probably - since god knows what, and to lose her to the storm of her own determination is something that Frank thinks might snap a lot of people clean in two. 

Himself included. 

He knows he’s said the wrong thing, knows he’s pushed that button of hers that makes her cheeks flare red and her voice hike up a few notches. He can tell as soon as the words are out of his mouth, as soon as she bunches her keys up in her fist in a way that’s got to hurt as she finally looks him in the eyes. 

“Oh, you mean the hundreds of people that would die because I put myself over the truth?” She spits the words out like they’re shitty vodka from Josie’s, like if she kept them in she’d explode. “What am I supposed to do, just let this fall by the wayside? Tell Ellison I need him to switch me to the lifestyle section this week? I can’t just let it go. That’s not how this works.” 

A part of Frank knows she’s right - knows that this shit won’t stop until the world can see the man behind the curtain - but a bigger part of him, the stubborn, protective part of him that he can never quite seem to fight down, can’t live with the idea of danger knocking at Karen’s door. 

“You could’ve been killed before the truth ever got out!” He doesn’t mean to be as loud as he is, but that hidden part of him doesn’t like the quiet. “You really want to do that again? You want to put a gun to your own head like that?” 

“I was hardly in danger of anything except hurting my own pride and you know that. I just let myself get scared.” 

Frank can see her flex her hand where her keys are digging into her palm, but she doesn’t relent. She doesn’t look angry, but he can see the way her jaw clenches to fight back another round of frustrated tears threatening to spill over. He can see how tense she is, how close her shoulders are to touching her ears. She’s got every hallmark of a woman on the verge of a nervous breakdown, but she refuses to move an inch. 

“Don’t make this about my safety, Frank,” she says. “You can’t keep mothering me like this. I can handle myself.”

She stares at him like she bore a hole directly to his soul, and Frank’s skin burns when she looks at him like that. Not like fire, but like acid. Corrosive, stinging, sizzling. It’s a burning that seeps through his clothes, plasters them to his body so nothing he does can serve as escape. It’s the worst in his hands - pins and needles that suddenly makes that “reach out and touch faith” song make more sense. He feels the stinging down to his bones, and sometimes he wonders whether he’s just a skeletal ghost floating around anymore. Whether the rest of him matches the skull crudely painted on a vest in his closet. 

No, it’s not like fire. Fire would be too easy, too instant. One splash of water and it’s out, wiped from body and from memory. It burns brightly but shortly, in and out of someone’s life with almost no passing thought beyond treating the wounds left behind. Fire is an easy solution. Fire doesn’t come from people who matter. 

No, the burning Frank feels isn’t fire, because Karen Page never does things the easy way. 

“‘M sorry,” he says, conceding another in a long list of arguments that neither of them would ever be able to win. He doesn’t know what to say, what to do to stop the burning. Isn’t sure if he wants to stop it. “Just didn’t—I didn’t want it to be like that.”

“Didn’t want what to…” 

Her sentence drifts off before she can finish it, and he can’t be sure whether she understood what he was referring to. Her fists clench and unclench, and the burning worsens when she looks at him like she’s staring down the barrel of a gun. 

“Frank, come on.” Her voice is tired - the groan of someone who’s been through far too much, far too soon. “You’re bleeding. I’m tired. Let’s just go up, and you can crash on the couch and we’ll talk about this—“

In the morning. Later. After. That’s always how it goes. Let things settle. Let them rest. Let the blood flow out of things, let the venom run its course. Take the rose-colored glasses off and let reality settle back in before anyone does something dumb. Karen wants an after for him, she’s said as much. She wants him to be able to walk out, as unscathed as a man with blood on his hands can ever manage to be. 

What she doesn’t realize is that his after is already standing right in front of him. 

Which is his only explanation for why his hand shoots out and closes around her arm like he’s pulling her away from some invisible danger. It’s the only explanation for the way he spins her like a top, until they’re close enough that he can see her eyes dilate in surprise. It’s the only explanation for the way he can feel his heart pounding in his chest, a feral animal broken free and running down the streets of Brooklyn with wild abandon.

It’s the only explanation for the way that he kisses her on her front stoop for God, the early morning garbagemen, and the rest of the modern world to see. 

Karen Page, he realizes, is everything good left in the world. She is sun after a thunderstorm and a comfortable bed after a long day. She’s raucous laughter at a terrible joke, the kindness of a stranger when you need it most. She’s good friends and fond memories and the ridiculous way she dances to Lady Gaga whenever she finishes a piece that gives her trouble. She’s the beers they share on her fire escape after weeks away and the tight feeling he gets in his chest every time someone asks what the hell he’s still fighting so hard for. She’s everything he thought he’d given up the right to have a long time ago, and she’s everything he fights to keep. 

Pulling away from her is painful. More painful than any gunshot, any gut punch, any knife wound he’s ever received. Pulling away from Karen is like pulling the skin from his bones, the air from his lungs. It’s like the burning he feels, only a million times worse. A million hot pokers on his skin, burning away anything that makes him who he is and leaving nothing but a shell, cradling this stubborn, beautiful, terrifyingly intelligent woman in its arms. 

All that’s left is her. All that matters is her. 

Her eyes are closed when he finally moves far enough away to see her face in full. For a moment, he panics, terrified -- too close, too close, fuck, did I make her cry again? -- but then she’s opening them, something he thinks might be glee or absolute horror written on her face. He can’t tell which is which, so he improvises. 

“Didn’t want to do that in front of the Irish.”

Karen’s pupils are still dilated, and the glee-horror-something-else-maybe morphs. Becomes a little clearer. 

“Oh.”

It sounds less like surprise and more like a smug question. He shrugs. He’s still got a hand at the small of her back. 

“Didn’t want them to get a chance at it either.”

Now he sounds smug. The garbagemen can definitely see them now. He’s not sure he cares. 

“Mmm.” Karen doesn’t bother to move. Doesn’t bother to separate herself from him. “Kinda glad about that.” 

Frank quirks an eyebrow. 

“Is that so?” 

“Yeah.” She fiddles with her keyring. Glances at the tiny skull. Jams the whole thing in her pocket. “‘Cause you kinda just ruined it for me for the rest of my life.” 

“What, the saving your life or the kissing?”

“Both.” 

She taps his chest with her newly free hand, and the spaces that have been hollow there since the park feel just that much fuller. Just enough to ease the ache. 

“But mostly the latter.”

Frank can’t even remember what the latter is, but Karen’s kissing him again and that’s all that matters. This moment, on this grimy doorstep, with her hands bunched in his coat and his wrapped around her back. 

So this is what it means to finally have an after. 

[unibrowzz]

My 2020 reviews

All the cool kids were doing these so now I finally dragged my ass into doing them too lmao. 

Albania- Fall from the Sky

A song I swear cursed this whole contest from the moment it won Festivali i Këngës. Like with the shitshow this song caused I just knew the whole year was fucked. With half the fandom whining they didn’t get their first club song of the year to the other half smugly shoving it as their winner despite no other songs being around to compare it to, the whole fiasco just left me knowing that 2020 would end in tears, just hopefully not my own. As for the song, it’s lame. It’s a standard ballad with OBSCENE amounts of autotune, which is weird because the girl can actually sing pretty decently without it, so why they decided to make her sound like a damn computer is beyond me. And WHY did they translate it, haven't the past few years proven that Albania's better off leaving their songs in Albanian? 

Armenia- Chains on You

A bootleg Ariana Grande song, and a really shit one at that. The kind of song only people who think being young, gay and mean counts as having a personality would say is good.

Australia- Don’t Break Me

One of the few decent Australian entries (but that REALLY isn’t saying much coming from me, I barely care they’re in the contest by this point) but marred by a horribly untidy performance and lacklustre lyrics. At least it’s not fucking pop-opera, that’s all I can say. I’d rather listen to the sound of my face being dragged down the runway at Heathrow airport than be subjected to another Zero Gravity.

Austria- Alive

One of those pseudo-jazz dance songs, á la Olly Murs or Bruno Mars (I swear there’s a song like this in every recent contest). I mean, it’s good, but it’s just kinda meh since I’m kinda getting tired of this genre rearing its fedora-wearing head every time a new lineup rolls in.

Azerbaijan- Cleopatra

One of the “better” trashy entries this year, comprised of about five different musical genres, six ancient cultures being appropriated and absolutely zero class. Probably sounds at least 50% better when you’re absolutely steaming drunk and face down on the floor in the middle of a gay bar.

Belarus- Da Vidna

Somehow, this song sounds both very unique and original yet trite and average at the same time. I couldn’t decide whether listening to it was a new experience or if I’d heard it a million times before.

Belgium- Release Me

A song which just drones on till it ends. I would say it’s ripping off the song that won last year, but it forgot that having a chorus stops your song from being three minutes of snooze.

Bulgaria- Tears Getting Sober

A typical breathy mumble-girl song, AKA a genre I can’t fucking stand. Really don’t see the hype with this one, the melody is pretty but the vocals are out for lunch and it’s otherwise completely and utterly boring.

Croatia- Divlji Vjetre

One of the token big dramatic ballads you listen to once, enjoy, then forget about until Darius in the Discord server plays it one night whilst you’re hitting up the radio bot with requests. You’ll find that “nice, but forgettable” is a common theme for this year.

Cyprus- Running

Ironically Cyprus didn’t send a crappy Fuego knockoff for 2020, and I say ironically because a crappy Fuego knockoff would’ve actually stood out this year, and I say crappy because honestly Fuego wasn’t even all that great to begin with. "Running” itself is just one of those edgy tortured soul pop songs which, let’s be honest, would have been paired with an impressive performance which would’ve overshadowed how bland it is. Kind of like “You’re the Only One”. Or even Fuego for that matter.

Czech Republic- Kemama

Standard Afro-pop, a genre we don't often see at the contest so I'll let it pass. I feel like this is the kind of song that’s infinitely better live, and that it would’ve been one of those songs that suddenly became a frontrunner after the semi finals, but I guess we’ll never know eh?

Denmark- Yes 

The quintessential mid-10s Eurovision song. It's got guitars, happy people, Scandinavian origins… it’s just a typical radio guitar song, nothing special.

Estonia- What Love Is

I mean it's better than La Forza. Granted, the sound of someone pissing directly onto a microphone installed in the bowl of a toilet would sound better than La Forza but still. Going back to this song, it’s just... a standard Eastern-ballad with some very desperate lyrics. It feels kind of outdated, if I’m honest. Like something about this just reeks of 2011.

Finland- Looking Back

Yet another dreary, forgettable ballad. It comes to something when the best song they COULD have sent was a party song which sounded like it was from the mid 90s. At least that song was memorable. That said, this one at least has some decent lyrics. Bravo for that I guess.

France- Mon Alliée

France decides to say “fuck it” to being an underground fan-favourite and takes a leaf out of the UKs book by sending the same rent-a-Swede schlock they’ve been sending since 2015. I’m just confused as to why anyone in their right mind would choose to follow the UKs example but you do you France.

Germany- Violent Thing

A rehash of Sweden's entry from two years ago, but this time sung by Justin Bieber circa 2008. Kind of alright if you can stomach the singer's whiny voice, but otherwise pretty dull and kinda forgettable.

Greece- Superg!rl

Hello fellow kidz, we are hearing you like the girl power? The super heroes? The t3xt $p3ech? We made you song, please give us the votes *dabs*

Georgia- Take me as I Am

I mean… this sure is a choice. This feels like one of those songs that everyone memes on because the lyrics are kinda janky and the singer’s voice (and accent) take a bit of getting used to, but other than that it’s just one of those NQ songs for hipster fans to declare as their unironic winner at a later date. All in all this just feels like the male equivalent of one of those mid-10s fat acceptance women’s songs, only a lot shoutier and this time he has more flaws than not being skinny.

Iceland- Think About Things 

A bootleg George Ezra song, performed by a load of disinterested tumblr users in their pyjamas. Because if there’s one thing that sells me on a song, it’s being given the evils by a bunch of nerds who look like they’ll send me death threats for not agreeing with their Pokémon headcanons. To be fair, the song is kind of groovy since it sounds so 70s, but the performance is very off-putting to people who aren’t in the Eurovision loop. And also people who are, because I sure as Hell don’t see the appeal in this myself and this whole performance just feels like Save Your Kisses for Me without the charm. I feel like this would’ve come second or third, definitely with a lot of televotes but either the jury would’ve dragged it down or it wouldn’t have scored enough televotes to win.

Ireland- Story of my Life

A song that’s at LEAST ten years out of date by this point, think like an early Katy Perry, Jessie J or Avril Lavigne song. I’ll forgive it because even though it sounds like it should’ve been entered in 2013 (at the latest), it at least evokes some nostalgic memories of shitty school discos and holiday parks.

Israel- Feker Libi

The female equivalent of the Czech song. Unsurprisingly, people went wild for it when it was released. I guess only women are allowed to sing Afro-pop at this contest. Like with the Czech song, I’ll forgive it since Afro-pop is a cool genre anyway, and even though this is just another club song I can at least see myself dancing to it.

Italy- Fai Rumore

Well, at least my wish of “Italy sends a typical power ballad devoid of anything the mainstream fandom likes” finally came true. It was pretty refreshing to have a year where people weren’t shoving Italy’s entry up my nose left right and centre. In terms of my actual thoughts I can’t deny that the guy has a tremendous voice, but for some reason the song just doesn’t… click with me. I guess I like my male Italian singers a little more gruff and raspy, if you know what I mean. They gotta sound like they smoke at LEAST five packets of cigarettes a day for me to take notice.

Malta- All of my Love

Listen I am 100% rooting for Destiny Chukunyere to win this contest some day but man was this song a disappointment. It feels so… un-special and generic, like it gets the job done and that’s it. It’s not the stand-up-and-belt-it-out soul anthem I’d hoped for, it’s just… there.

Moldova- Prison

All I remember about this song is that it vaguely reminds me of that one Meccano song about the gypsy who makes a deal with the moon or something. And I’ve TRIED to remember more about what it sounds like, trust me.

Latvia- Still Breathing

The one horrible weird song you get every year which overuses strobe effects to the point it comes with an epilepsy warning. Would be bearable if it wasn't for the singer’s insistence that this is actually some feminist masterpiece when it's really just a self-empowerment club song about the singer fingerbanging herself over the fact she writes music.

Lithuania- On Fire

One of the songs everyone thought was going to win at one point, even though it seems like a surefire non-qualifier to me. It’s one of those weird entries, but not the kind of over the top, batshit insane, you’d-have-to-be-drunk-to-enjoy-it weird, the kind of subdued surreal weird. Like this is weed instead of LSD or cocaine weird. Granted my mom, who I consider to be a "typical" Eurofan, actually really liked this song when she saw it in the recaps, so who knows maybe this would have done well with televoters after all.

Netherlands- Grow

I appreciate this song for how artsy and clever it is with its structure, since it starts off acapella and the instrumental builds up with the song until it stops suddenly, symbolising a person’s growth from a child into an adult, and ending suddenly with their death (Geddit? The song’s called “Grow”). But it feels like the kind of song that would be lost on a Eurovision audience. The juries would have taken note, for sure, but the televote… let’s be honest, they’d have been too busy drunk voting for Russia to care about anything else.

North Macedonia- You

Well, it's better than the miserable dirge they sent last year, but given how I'd rather pleasure myself with a steak knife than listen to that song, that really isn't saying much. Going back to “You”, it really just feels like a diet version of Switzerland’s entry from last year, combined with Sweden’s song from 2018. What I’m saying is it’s your average “I’m a man in a club and I want to dance with and probably fuck this hot girl I just met” song, which I a new genre I just made up. You’re welcome.

Norway- Attention 

One of those songs you appreciate because it sounds nice and the singer has a good voice, but instantly forget because it’s really not all that interesting. If I sound like I'm repeating myself, welcome to Eurovision 2020.

Poland- Empires

“Rise Like a Phoenix” but sung by a wannabe Adele and not a mascara-wearing Jesus in a dress. Like a lot of other songs on this list, it’s just average across the board, likeable when it’s on, but instantly forgettable as soon as the next song comes on.

Portugal: Medo de Sentir

Pretty, but also similar to their ill-fated 2018 entry, only with a bit more energy and less pink hair. What I’m saying is this would have been another NQ unless the crowd who enjoy subtle ambience music come in to save it like they did with Slovenia's entry last year.

Romania- Alcohol You

See Bulgaria, because this is practically the same song. It’s just as dreary, just as badly sung (if not worse because holy shit this girl sounds like she’s being suffocated), and I suppose you COULD excuse that by saying she’s drunk or hungover… but I don’t want to listen to someone ungracefully mumble into a microphone for three minutes.

Russia- Uno

A classic big camp party song, the kind of song people who haven’t watched Eurovision since 2003 think wins on the regular. I can see why people would like it (especially in this boring year lmao, I applaud Russia for taking the opportunity to loosen their corset and just send a complete mess instead of their usual clinical vote grabs), but it’s just not something I enjoy. It's the song that plays into the misconception that Eurovision is just a clown show for drunk people, like this is just here to be that one flash-in-the-pan meme song that only entertains people who don’t really care about Eurovision until the day before it airs. Kind of like the old ladies they sent in 2012 (remember them?).

San Marino- Freaky!

San Marino, in true Sammarinese fashion, have yet again sent a decade-ambiguous song which sounds like it was either released in 1978 or 2003. I feel like this would have been one of those songs which could have surprised us if it had a really wacky, creative performance (think like Moldova in 2018), but this is San Marino so you know that would never happen.

Serbia- Hasta la Vista

Insert unoriginal joke about a decade wanting their shitty trend back right here. Okay maybe that’s a bit harsh, especially considering how this song is actually, yanno, unique in comparison to the rest of this year. But it still feels weirdly dated, in a way where I can’t decide whether it sounds like it belongs in 1998 or 2018. I suppose girl power ages a song regardless of when it was released.

Slovenia- Voda

Yet another standard Balkan-European power ballad which you appreciate because it’s well sung, but forget the moment it ends because it’s kinda boring. … Does anyone else have a bit of deja vu?

Spain- Universo

For some reason I feel like this song is shilling itself out to someone but I have no idea who. Aside from the horny people voting solely because the singer is moderately attractive even with that wretched Jedward haircut.

Sweden- Move

Imagine soul but… boring.

Switzerland- Répondez Moi

Imagine Arcade but… in French.

United Kingdom- My last Breath

Not the best the UK could have done, but it’s at least a modern offering unlike the residual dregs of the mid-90s that we sent throughout the 2010s. It’s definitely a bit too generic to have done any better than maybe 15th, but hey at least the cancellation means we won’t have to see it not do as well as the BBC thinks it’s entitled to do, prompting a billion clickbait articles about how Brexit somehow affected our performance.

Ukraine- Solovey

At long last we come to something you probably weren't expecting: a song I actually really like. Which is weird because I usually don't care for or don't like whatever Ukraine vomits into the contest, so I was pleasantly surprised to find a song I liked from them in such a weak year. This song isn’t for everyone, it’s white noise singing which is a very acquired taste, but this is honestly the only 2020 song I find myself coming back to over and over. And it’s in Ukrainian too, so you don’t have to put up with their usual mangled English offerings.

[snkpolls]

SnK Chapter 122 Poll Results

The chapter 122 poll closed with 1,472 responses. Thank you to everyone who participated!

RATE THE CHAPTER 1,428 Responses

This is one for the record books. Chapter 122 is officially the highest rated chapter since we started the poll. A whopping 85.2% of respondents gave it the top rating. The previous record holder was chapter 101 (79.8%) which featured the long awaited return of the Survey Corps.

5 out of 5 for the pig who seeks freedom! Fight For Freedom! Revolt! Revolt! Revolt!

Each chapter is becoming my favorite every time and this one isn't different. It's a fantastic read.

In a single chapter Founder Ymir became one of my top five characters in this series point blank.

I thought nothing could top chapter 100. 122 is the best one of the entire story. 

A turning point. Very well executed. Congrats, Isayama, can't wait to see what you still have on store!

Yet another mind-blowing chapter, honestly one of my favorites in the series! Honestly, this was a chapter I have been awaiting since I started getting into SnK, and those feelings increased following the basement reveal chapters where we are left to wonder which parts of Ymir's story are true and which are false.

One of the best chapters of the series! Definitely gave me a new appreciation for Attack on Titan from a story telling standpoint.

I love how many questions this answers and also creates; I’m happy that there are still many things left a mystery!

Aamazing chapter, I fucking cried. Now give me Historia, Isayama. I need her.

I'm just so happy to see it finally coming together and not be let-down

If Floch doesn't die in the Rumbling I want a refund

Worldwide genocide, taking care of kids, get you a man who can do both

LEEEEET'S GET READY TO RUUUUUUUUUUUMBLE!!!

Damn, Isayama.

WHICH OF THE FOLLOWING WAS YOUR FAVORITE MOMENT? 1,439 Responses

You guys are almost as split on this question as Ymir’s Titan Powers are. Speaking of, she also happens to directly occupy the two most common answers, with 48.7% rating their favorite moment as either her backstory, or her conversation with Eren.The fall of the walls takes third place, followed by Eren’s revival and the cliffhanger at the end of the chapter.

WHO IS MOST RESPONSIBLE FOR 'STARTING THIS STORY?' 1,419 Responses

You started this story, didn’t you: pig who got freed?  45.1% feel that the earliest in story event makes for a good starting point.  Just over ¼ of respondents felt the Founder Ymir Fritz is most responsible.  8.4% feel it’s Eren, and only 3.4% chose Grisha for whom the quote originally signified.  The most popular write-in answer, King Fritz, overtook poor Grisha at 4.2%.  Variations on King Fritz in the write-ins numbered almost 200.

People's greed. It started with the first King Fritz and it continued with the next generations

The Eldians (First Fritz)

Isayama. He started the whole story! If that wasn't him, the pigs would not run away.

Everybody has played their own part, it is not simply a matter of what single person is the most responsible.

The Attack titan

The Marleyean military higher ups that ordered Bertolt, Reiner, Annie and Marcel to breach the walls of Paradis Island

Those that blamed Ymir

The spinal fluid that was inside the three because if that wasn't there, titans would have never existed in the first place.

The cycle of violence/hatred/slavery. The King Fritz probably wasn't the first to be this way. The story has no true beginning because it's a cycle, but Eren will be the end.

King Dickz

The first King. Why isn't it an option?

WHO DO YOU THINK IS THE MOST CONNECTED TO/PARALLELS YMIR THE MOST? 1,422 Responses

Our current queen seems to resemble the first queen quite a bit, with almost half of respondents, at 46.8% saying Historia parallels original Ymir the most.  35% feel Ymir is most connected to, well, Ymir.  14.3% chose Eren, and a sliver of votes went to Zeke at 1.6%.

Though there are more parallels to  Freckled Ymir, the pregnancy of Ymir Fritz can be a connection-foreshadowment of Historia's pregnancy plan. So I'll say that there are parallels to both Freckled ymir and Historia.

Mikasa is a lot like pre freedom ymir

Anyone who has been trapped in life

Connected to: Eren. Parallels: Freckled Ymir.

both Historia and freckled Ymir, obvs. And Mikasa, to a lesser extent

A lot of the cast parallel OG Ymir

Grisha

Definitely Freckled Ymir. She took the blame of all those people in the hopes of being useful or wanted through her sacrifice and then got the power of the titans. 

Ymir has parallels to Historia, freckled Ymir and Zeke

Time will show.

I'd say both Historia and Ymir: the cult picked up Ymir, who was a homeless child, similar to how Founder Ymir was a slave without name or status; the two of them stood for their people even after they've been denounced out of cowardice and fought for someone else until their very end, out of pure selflessness. Historia parallels Founder Ymir by how she became a slave of her blood, and a tool to be used.

I was gonna say Oluo, but he never actually lost his tongue.

HAVE YOUR OPINIONS SHIFTED NEGATIVELY ON ELDIA? 1,421 Responses

In a conflict with no clear start, we get to see further back into the past!  But did the revelations change your mind?  The vast majority at 66.3% don’t give a flying fritz about who started it, they just want to see the bloodshed end.  12.7% say their outlook has changed but Marley is more in the wrong still; and only 5.3% had this chapter change their mind to the Eldians being most at fault.

All the men in power are as bad as each other

Both nations committed atrocities

Both sides are slaves to history, Eldia today is not responsible for the actions 2000 years ago. 

Eldia in the past I always figured were some tyrannical force, I mean what else would happen with an ancient civilisation discovering the Power of the Titans. But Marley's propaganda having some truth to it doesn't mean they're justified in their treatment of Eldians in the modern day who had nothing to do with the original Eldia. 

How could we know? What was the relationship between eldia and Marley before Ymir turned into a titan? Was Marley in the wrong before they were overtaken by eldia/even before king fritz took Marley people prisoner?

King Fritz is the one to blame. Not all of Eldia and ESPECIALLY not the Survey Corps.

Marley is more in wrong because they are continuing to perpetuate the conflict in the present.

The current characters we love and want to end up happy have nothing to do with the past, they just want to be free.

EVERYONE IS IN THE WRONG BUT THAT'S HOW THE WORLD WORKS

There's neither bad or right in this story "Everyone can become a god or a devil, all it takes is for someone to claim that to be the truth" 

WHO IS THE BIGGEST ASSHOLE IN THE MANGA THUS FAR? 1,433 Responses

In a story filled with lovable characters, there’s also tons of douchenozzles.  67.7% believe the original King Fritz is the worst of them all. 17.2% took the intellectual route and responded with “Yes”.

All of them are rotten, selfish and full of hatred people who only think about themselves and are ready to manipulate own children (or other people) for own benefits.

first king Fritz of Eldia and Eren 

Gabi a.k.a. Garbage

I believe king fritz and gross deserve eatch other, they are the assholes of their times

I'm surprised Zeke finally got a rival in being the worst human ever in person of King Fritz.  

No recognition for our very own Darius 'poo-chair' Zackly? 

Most have a at least some humanizing (if not redeeming) qualities, but both King Fritz and Gross are evil to the core

King Fritz, but Flock is also an big asshole (it's never a bad time to point that)

Where's Zeke? To be honest I can't decide between Fritz, Floch, and Zeke.

Who the fuck put floch here, come here and fight 

Why on earth are Karina and Alma here? They were horrid mothers to their kids; the others are guilty of murder, torture and genocide.  

Ymir Fritz because she received godlike powers and decided to stay with a power hungry king; she was free and could have done anything but because of her slave mentality she decided to stay with him for 13 years! as uncle Ben said "With great power comes great responsibility"

The 145th king is the only one who did unreasonable bad things to his people, he literally allowed his people to be enslaved all over the world and he allowed the future genocide of his people. The worst thing is this doesn't do anything. It doesn't save the world from anything. Even the paradise he created was all for himself because he couldn't deal with reality. His logic is faulty, but even so he couldn't even do the job himself. The only one that can be worst than him is Zeke who's another evil man who wants to exterminate his own people. But, unlike Karl, Zeke is willing to do the job himself.

That goddamn pig

WHAT IS THE TREE YMIR FOUND? 1,424 Responses

In a chapter with so many answers, we still have vague origins!  Starting from the start, what in the world is that tree?  Over half of you, at 55.5%, think it’s Attack on Titan’s version of the Yggdrasil tree from Norse mythology.  24.2% say it’s the source of all organic matter we’ve heard discussed.  11.3% say it just grew out of what it’s housing, and 5.9% think it’s similar to the forest of giant trees.

A connection between a human and the Earth, hence the Devil of All Earth

A wellspring or hidden primordial lake

Yggdrasil but is the source of all organic matter somehow, and I think it's somehow related to the trees on Paradis being so big.

A hideout for that Hallucigenia thing left by the devil

It appears almost as a man and women embracing. Adam and Eve??

It doesn't matter. It was never about the origin of the titans, it was about the power of the titans and the moral implications of it. How the titans came to be is irrelevant.

The Great Deku Tree dungeon

Titan tree. It is probably the same species as the trees surrounding it, but has grown unnaturally large due to the parasite in it's water source.

Tree

WHAT IS THE THING IN THE TREE YMIR FOUND? 1,421 Responses

Another layer of mystery within the mystery tree!  Two main thoughts emerged and are almost even in popularity.  46.9% believe it is the source of all organic matter; wheread 44.3% say it’s a parasite of unknown origin.  3.2% say it’s in fact the devil itself.

A connection to the earth, making her the Devil

A *Symbiote* of unknown origin

A root of the tree that connects whoever it touches with the paths realm

A root of the tree that's been soaked and absorbing the water; the water is the real source.

I've seen enough hentai to know that is an alien

It could be the very first living being on this planet, a sort of progenitor from which all genes and all variations of biodiversity came to be.

Just a spine in the water turning little girl to big girl. What's supposed to be special about that?

This world's version of Níðhöggr, the many legged dragon that eats at the roots of the Tree of Life.

The spine of the previous founder

The Great Deku Tree dungeon boss. Ymir lost.

A poorly designed shit-machine that can't get the job done

A L I E N S

DID YMIR TEMPORARILY DIE WHEN SHE FELL IN THE TREE? 1,425 Responses

When Ymir fell into the tree, did she drown?  The majority of the fanbase doesn’t feel anything like that happened, whereas over a ¼ at 26.6% feel she died and was revived.  5% believe she died, and was thereafter controlled by the parasite type thing.

Dying and being brought back to life is meant to be Zeke's thing!!

I think she was almost dying but the parasite healed her.

It revived her and created a clone within the paths dimension.

I think Ymir's body as a child is still in that tree to this day, with the parasite still attached to her. It was deep underground, thus affecting the ground shared by its roots (assuming this is Paradis), and being the reason for all the giant trees. It also explains a little Titans being creatures of the Earth, and Ymir forming them with sand.

She became a Titan seconds before dying

She probably passed out for a few seconds after she drowned, and it was during that brief state of unconsciousness that parasite attached to her.

Ymir the human died, and Ymir the Titan was born. That's why Ymir the human is in the Paths and not Ymir the Titan. Ymir the Human sculpts the titan body for her Titan self, because time is infinite and strange in Paths.

A mix of both Yes answers - it revived her but also controlled her body so that she could only watch on as an observer. It makes her more of a slave without a free will as something else is literally controlling her body from within her and she can’t do anything about it

P A T H S

WHAT IS THE BIGGEST STANDOUT TO YOU ABOUT YMIR'S TITAN DESIGN? 1,429 Responses

We finally got to see the original founding titan in the flesh!  The ribs sticking out stuck out to 39.7% the most.  29.5% of you found it interesting that the overall design was uglier than the goddess like depictions we’ve seen.  17.6% went for the skull face she has, and 11.8% simply went for the HUGE size.

All of above, just look at that atrocity

Her missing eyes

Everything, the ribs were the first thing I noticed with the face being next. It took me a 2nd read through the chapter to realize that she is bigger than the Colossal titan. Definitely one of the best titan designs from Isayama

How malnourished it looks

It's terrifying and it's the fusion of the 9 titans

The fact that it looks nothing like I expected or imagined 

Everything about it - One can see exactly why the truth about her was easily manipulated.

ON A SCALE OF 1 TO 5, HOW OFFENSIVE TO YOU IS THE FACT THAT THE ORIGINAL WARHAMMER TITAN HAD HAIR? 1,418 Responses

This question was for that one guy who absolutely could not deal with the original WHT’s hair. You’re in good company, but the results are about as polarized as global politics. 35% want Emma back immediately, 16.4% don’t really care about this egregious crime, and 32.4% are totally indifferent. Only 16% had slight feelings in either direction. The poll lawyers are telling me that I have to clarify that Emma is still only a fandom name for the previous Warhammer. Get on it Isayama.

WHAT DO YOU THINK OF THE DESIGNS WE SAW FOR THE ORIGINAL TITANS?

You guys liked Ymir’s Founding Titan so much that it’s literally off the charts. The original Attack Titan got some pretty mixed reviews, but the general consensus is that you guys prefer an Eren and/or a Jaeger to be driving that thing. The scourge of the hair comes back to beat down the original Warhammer’s ratings as well, but the majority remain indifferent. Speaking of indifference, more of you were indifferent about the OG Colossal Titan than had strong feelings one way or another combined. We’ll see how that result changes when it ends up CGI in Season 4. The general consensus on the original Armored Titan is, “It’s alright, I guess.” The Female Titan was the second on the list to have a majority “Love” rating, though whether this is due to the design or severe Annie Deprivation Syndrome remains to be seen.

DID YMIR MANAGE TO GRAB THE 'MOST TRAGIC BACKSTORY' AWARD? 1,422 Responses

Another tear jerking childhood to add to the list, but does it top it?  The overwhelming majority at 83.5% feel that she did earn that award of tragedy.  6.3% believe the classic sufferboi Reiner still tops the charts.  3.4% went for Levi, 1.8% for the other Ymir, 0.7% for Zeke and 0.4% for Historia.

Everyone has suffered uniquely in this series, how can I choose ?

First, I'm offended Grisha wasn't included here. Second, everyone's suffered too much. So they all win.

Her backstory definitely is the darkest and saddest one. Reiner, Historia, Ymir and the rest had their moments of happiness. They were surrounded by loving people. Ymir was always all alone; born as a slave, had full of sadness life and after death she was creating titans for 2000 years. She just wanted to be free and wanted be loved, yet she had none of that. 

Homegirl is still living her 2000-year-long tragic backstory, she definitely wins

I don't think tragic backstories should be a competition

I think you forgot about Mr Yeager :) those guys are not even close to him

Is this Suffering Olympics or something?

Ymir and Mikasa the most sad tragic backstory

Ymir is always showed as a mindless slave, even at the start of her backstory, it is too hard to empathize with someone that never acted as a human being and lived her whole life without any emotion

Grisha easily has it for me. Ymir's circumstances were worse from birth, and Reiner's dissonance and misery is tragic, but Grisha's perceived misery throughout his cycles of perpetual tragedy shows that he easily suffered the most. 

Give them all a hug.

P I G

WAS THE MURDERER OF YMIR HELOS? 1,408 Responses

Is Helos historical or completely fabricated?  10.7% believe the Marleyan who killed Ymir is in fact Helos, and 66.9% believe the character is based on him.  22.4% don’t believe the idea of Helos and this man are related in any way.

The one showing rebellion in this chapter is the figure serving as a role model for Helos. Unlike Ymir, he was powerless and only had his spear, but he took enough courage to show resistance to Eldia's domination and toss his spear at the king. He paid it with his life, but he fatally wounded Ymir in return, showing even the goddess of titans could bleed. I'm confident the myth of Helos is going to be relevant in the future chapters.

YMIR didn't die with the spear-throw..I think her conscious form was stuck in the paths before her body revived. 

Helos? Really?? Helos???

WHICH OF THESE LIKELY TO BE CENSORED SCENES WAS THE MOST GRUESOME? 1,421 Responses

In a series filled with gore, this chapter was above average with violence.  Ymir’s young daughters cannibalizing their mother was the most gruesome according to almost all of you at 89.2%.  Second place is a bit behind at 3.5%, with centipede spine Eren.

All of the above

Everything but Centipede Eren

The guy getting his tongue cut out that was even censored for the manga.

We've seen lots of people being eaten so not that, and Erentipede is going to be stunning animated so not that. Maybe head on a pike. 

The tongue cut from the beginning really horrified me, it put the chapter in a great atmosphere from the start

No mention about that slave getting his tongue cut out by those ancient Eldian soldiers? That was pretty grizzle. That panel implies that all people enslaved by the Eldians lost their tongues upon getting captured, which meant that Ymir likely lost her tongue as well. That really explains how she had no spoken dialogue in the past, and while the tongue may have regenerated following her first Titan transformation, the length of time she couldn't speak and her status most likely prevented her from speaking.

No need to be censored

WHAT DOES EREN MEAN BY 'PUT AN END TO THIS WORLD'? 1,419 Responses

Eren’s finally stated what he plans to do; but what does it mean!?  45.9% believe the world he plans to destroy is the paths realm, eldning titans that way.  25.4% think he just meant dismantling the status quo of the world.  14.4% say he’s just going to rumble enemies of Eldia, whereas 10.6% say the whole earth.

All options seem plausible

Destroy the PATHS realm and rumble the enemies invading Eldia. 

He plans to rumble all life, destroy the paths realm, AND erase all the memories of the remaining Eldians on Paradis so they completely forget about the history of the titans, thus effectively making the past 2000 years seem like they never even happened. ANDHe plans to destroy the PATHS realm, putting an end to titans

He wants to destroy the world as it is now. He wants to create a world where none of the things that happened to Ymir can ever happen again.

I think he just needs a nap

I understand that fandom wants to see Eren as good guy who will not destroy the world, but I think that everything is simple - Eren is planning to use full rumbling; destroy the whole world, kill millions of innocent people, animals and plants. 

IT ALL COMES RUMBLING DOWN RUMBLING DOWN RUMBLING DOWN

4+5

HOW DOES THIS CHAPTER RELATE TO THE SCENE OF EREN CRYING IN CHAPTER 1? 1,399 Responses

2,000 years ago, 2,000 years from now.  The titles of this and chapter one parallel, but what else?  Over half of you, at 52.7% believe Eren was sent Ymir’s feelings when she had her emotional epiphany.  33.5% say Eren was sent memories of what’s about to happen, and 11.1% don’t think anything from this chapter related to Eren crying in chapter one specifically.

1st Chapter name suggest it does, but it just make no sense as Eren at that point didn't had attack titan power, so he could not receive others memories

Eren crying will be due to the consequences of this chapter

Eren learns of Ymir's backstory

I don't think Isayama meant for it to originally mean anything this far in the story, but I think there could be some Paths tomfoolery going on.

Eren saw the memories of his death and literally everything until that moment

Eren was sent a message like a cry for help maybe? Strong, intense feelings of sadness and despair... Because in this chapter Eren says she'd been waiting for someone for 2000 years, so I am guessing 2000 years ago she started sending a message.

ON A SCALE OF "EH" TO "I NEED TO HUG HER, HOW DID YOU FEEL SEEING LITTLE YMIR TEAR UP? 1,417 Responses

Sad Girl Hours have officially been endorsed by Hajime Isayama himself. 73.7% of you guys are in full support, and an additional 15.2% of your mice slipped when answering. 6.9% of you guys kinda just wanna see something else happen, and the first one of you on Reddit to say “Nice.” about that is getting sent to Paradis. Lastly, a grand total of 60 of you defy all explanation.

I want to hug Ymir so bad :( mute babby

WHY WAS EREN THE FIRST TO OPEN YMIR'S EYES? 1,415 Responses

It took 2,000 years for Ymir to open her eyes and her heart, what about Eren got her to that point?  29.9% think he was the only person to ever empathize with her at all, 8.4% think it was simply Eren’s chadness, while 8.3% think it’s only because the previous royals viewed her as a slave.  The majority at 41.1% feel it’s a mix of all available options.

Because he was born into this world

Because he is the protagonist

He embraced her and showed her compassion- something she never felt before

Defiance of old wills. He does, after all "just keep moving forward."

Eren didn't seek to use Ymir as a slave

Eren made her realize that she isn't a slave OR a god. She was enslaved and in later years worshipped, but just like Eren: from the moment she was born, she was free

He knew/experienced everything she went through.

He manipulated her to be able to use her powers

He was the first person to tell her she could make her own choices

He was the only one that put his ideals over his personal gain to the end. Ymir is a slave, therefor Eren frees her from her slavery. /The previous royals viewed her as a slave

TALK NO JUTSU 2 GOOD; Eren is good at manipulating kids when it suits his needs best + He was the only one to ever empathize with her

WHAT IS YOUR PRIMARY THOUGHT ON THE CENTIPEDE SPINE THAT SAVED EREN? 1,417 Responses

Eren’s alive!  But what is that… thing?  IT LOOKS AWESOME!  32.9% had that as their first response.  It was nearly a three way split though, and 30.6% first thought of how it must look for those for whom only a moment has passed since his head flew off.  30.2% quickly made the connection that it looks like the parasite thingy Ymir Fritz found.  Only 3.2% thought it looked stupid as hell.

CREEPY but COOL

DO NOT WANT

100/10, better than Kaneki

Ken is hiring a lawyer for copyrights lawsuits against Eren.

I am wondering, what if this is basically Ymir's renouncing of the power she had, finally freeing herself, and thus passing it on to Eren?

I thought that Eren was becoming Níðhöggr, the literal devil that causes Ragnarok (the apocalypse). He looks really cool and frightening at the same time, I love this young man!

It cant be stopped anymore and weird for whom only a second passed

It looks less like a centipede and more like roots to me.

My thought, "The hell is that?!"

Nothing personal Eren, but burn that thing immediately.

Oh thank goodness Eren didn't split into two.

pure "why is the boss music changing to MORE intense?", and that's great

HOW DO YOU FEEL ABOUT EREN SURVIVING THE BEHEADING? 1,410 Responses

44.3% of you are really enthusiastic about Eren surviving his beheading, despite proclaiming that you knew it’d happen anyway. It takes the noggin for a joggin’, but I’m not here to judge. 27.1% of you guys are relatively indifferent about it, and 21.1% of you didn’t think you’d like it, but ultimately bent the knee before Isayama’s storytelling abilities.

Am I surprised? No. Are you surprised? No

Disappointed but not surprised...

Excited, but wondering how he is actually going to die.

GABI GANG BTFO

It was predictable but the revival still felt epic

It was predictable since he's the main character, c'mon anyone else would die like Porco did.

oshiete oshiete

THE WALLS HAVE FINALLY FALLEN! WHAT DID YOU THINK OF THIS MOMENT? 1,410 Responses

A moment that’s been built up so long, what feeling took over when it finally happened?  Most of the fanbase, at 68.3%, were just in awe at how well Isayama pulled it off.  14.2% were filled with hope that Eren actually made it happen.  On the opposite end of the spectrum 13.5% were filled with dread.

All of the above. This story is a rollercoaster.

Dread as the wall titans are facing into Paradis so Eren's plan may backfire! 

Everything in the manga has led to this moment

I kind of thought/hoped the rumbling would be a red herring, but oh well. it'll still be cool

I want them do the colossal dance

I was hoping this chapter won't end with cliffhanger

IT ALL COMES RUMBLING DOWN RUMBLING DOWN RUMBLING DOWN

Looks very dramatic, will be momentous animated, still not surprising since I think a lot of us knew it was gonna happen eventually

meh, I want the story to advance, but the rumbling never grabbed me as an event I was waiting for

LETS GET READY TO RUMBLE!!!!!

I peed

IN SUCH A BEAUTIFULLY DRAWN CHAPTER, WHICH WAS YOUR FAVORITE DOUBLE SPREAD? 1,412 Responses

Isayama’s art truly has improved over the years and this chapter showcased that.  The final panel left the biggest impression on 33.7% of you.  25.1% felt a deep impact from Ymir’s emotional closeup, and the walls cracking and crumbling rounds out the top 3 at 14.8%.

All of them

Original 9 titans.

the one where Ymir was building thousands of collosal titans

not so beautifully drawn but still nice

The pages with Ymir alone in the Paths realm while Fritz tells his daughters to continue the reign of Titans and Eldia 

Ymir’s children eating her

IN CHAPTER 86 GRISHA MANAGED TO QUOTE KING FRITZ WITHOUT BEING ABLE TO READ THE "HISTORICAL" DOCUMENTS. HOW WAS THIS POSSIBLE? 1,406 Responses

In this chapter King Fritz used the same line Grisha did when learning about Ymir much further down the line.  Half of the fanbase at 50.6% don’t feel that anything’s at play and it was just Grisha making assumptions based on what information he had.  Just about ¼ at 25.7% feel paths are involved but they don’t have to explain anything after that.  14.2% feel there was a chain of memory sending that led to the result we got.

Actually Grisha never deciphered the documentation. I thought it was obvious he was being portrayed as extremist at the point to show the other side of the coin. Both sides just make up facts as they want.

I suppose it being the exact wording as what the King said made people think there was memories shenanigans but Isayama does these kind of parallels all the time, with characters saying something word for word that they don’t have knowledge of.

"Grisha how did you understand this?"  "Pretty pictures."

WILL THERE BE A RUMBLING? 1,413 Responses

The walls have fallen.  What will happen next?  In a near even split, 48.1% win out saying there will be a small scale rumbling, whereas 45% say it will be worldwide.  Only 6.9% feel there won’t be any form of rumbling at all.

I WAS WAITING FOR YEARS FOR THE RUMBLING!!!!!!

AWESOME! But i really don't want a full scale rumbling

Eren is becoming more and more the last antagonist of this story and it's just scary how some people in the fandom understand and support Eren's plan. Hopefully Marley, Zeke and the SC will working together to stop the rumbling and Eren. 

i really dont think eren is gonna go full rumbling or even in a small scale, hes gonna end the word dominated by titans by taking away the titan power from eldians

The rumbling isn't a metaphor people. Eren is planning to kill billions of innocents. Can't wait for the warriors and 104th to team up and put down that mad dog.

Zeke said it himself a few chapters back: Eldia would have no chance of fighting the entire World Army; the Rumbling really seemed to be their only way out, and launching those Colossal Titans now as a pre-emptive strike would be the best way to suppress the Army before they can even attack.

I have a feeling that the rumbling will turn out to be anti- climatic. Lots of people seem to be pinning their hopes on the rumbling being the cure-all to Eldia's problems, but the world of attack on titan is not that kind.

WHAT/WHO IS THE TITAN FORMING AT THE END? 1,412 Responses

The chapter ended with a titan forming, but what will it end up being?  Barely over half, at 51.6% believe it to be Eren with a power up from Ymir Fritz.  20.5% think it’s Eren with Ymir attached in some way, and 14.1% think Eren has accessed a new form on his own.

Eren and Ymir combined, rather than attached. Could be a new Titan form, could be Attack Titan on Titan Steroids. Need to wait until 123 to maybe find out.

Eren in Warhammer, he is not in the nape

Centipide Titan that will die after getting out of energy

Eren with full power from the Founder, Attack and Warhammer

I'm thinking it's some sort of founder-unlocked version of Eren's titan. Maybe Ymir is giving him full control now.

Eren and Ymir fused. Ymen

It's Eren but I don't know how his titan will look like and I don't care about it, cause I'm more worried about Gabi. 

Eren's founding titan form. He had it all along, but he could never use it, until now.

The last two sound so lewd without context

DEATH FLAGS! WHO IN SHIGANSHINA IS GOING TO DIE AS A RESULT OF IMMINENT EVENTS? 1,340 Responses

I was gonna ask for Fs in the chat for whoever led in the results for this question, but then I saw it was Floch, so… Fs in the chat for Magath I guess, because a lot of you seem to think Hulk Hogan is going to suplex him (and Floch) through a table at Royal Rumble DCCCLIV. That’s fancy talk for “die.” Pieck and Zeke are pretty high on the list as well. There’s a lot of information here, so I won’t give you all the specifics in this written part—take a look! Armin has 92 votes, which lands him at 6.9% don’t say it Reddit, and Mikasa has 117 votes, with only 8.7% of you suspecting death in her immediate future. For a brick, she flies pretty good!

I hope no one, but I'm sure everyone

Everyone without plot armor, in other words no main or supporting characters.

I think the named characters are still safe. For Now. But soon, not so safe.

Less people than realistically possible

literally no one because Isayama is a hack

For some reason I feel like Yelena will die soon

Pieck, Niccolo, I don't want it to happen but I feel like Nikolo's gonna go down protecting the Braus family! :(

None of the above

HOW WAS YMIR STRANDED IN THE PATHS REALM AFTER DEATH, BUT NO OTHER ELDIANS SEEM TO BE? 727 Responses

Because she sort of... disassociated there

I think her younger self was "recorded" and so a version of ymir was there ever since she fell down the tree. The tree itself being the physical portal to it or sth like that. No one else fell down that hole...

in order to create the other 8 titans, she gave up her soul and became stranded there. 

Because she started it all, she's the only one who touched the whatever it was that gave the titan powers.

I think it's obvious, she was the original slave, the only one that King Fritz's evil targeted specifically. Damning her to an eternity in the hellish isolation only making titans to oppress mankind, because that was his goal.

After she came in contact with what I believe to be the silver branch from Celtic Mythology, her conscious was unknowingly split into two; one in the paths and the other in the physical word. Once Ymir finally died in the physical world, her conscious fuse with the paths conscious and became aware of it.

I think the paths realm takes place inside the mind or dimension of that worm/nidhogg/ancient god parasite and she was brought back to it after she allowed herself to die. The sand Ymir uses to build titans may be her tapping into the reservoir of liquid underneath that giant tree or something.

she's tied to it as a slave and never had the strength on her own to break free

SHE created the PATHS dimension. She is the first titan and has almost unlimited power

A combination of being the bearer of the Centispine and the long years of abuse she went through making her unable to disobey yet another order. Hers is pretty much the most heartbreaking case of learned helplessness. What keeps her obeying the commands of the royals is the fact that she doesn't even realise there is another possibility. Because nobody ever cared enough about her to show her there is one. 

Another version of herself was created, when she came in contact with the thing, so that she could create her titan etc..

As the very first Titan, she is the conduit through which PATHS flows. The parasite had now host in the beginning so PATHS couldn't be conveyed until Ymir showed up.

Because with her started everything, i believe her “burden” was to be attached forever

Maybe it's because she's the only one that's physically attached to that weird, interdimensional organism. Maybe it's because her body was dismembered and consumed by 3 different people. Other titan shifters don't get stranded there because their spirits can in some way inhabit the one person who inherits their power. Maybe there is significance to Eren having gotten 3 titans, perhaps one from each lineage: Maria, Rose, and Sina, which now somehow allows Ymir's spirit to leave Paths. He certainly did work hard to get the War Hammer, specifically.

i think paths always existed and have always been there, but there wasnt someone to be in there, because no one discovered that spine under the giant tree. so, i think that ymir's soul somehow connected with the paths at the moment she gained the titan power, and when she died, her soul converted into the "ruler" of the paths

It was always her, she's the special one. There is nothing special about eldians, other than them being biologically related to Ymir. Ymir was always the one with the power, the only one. She was only limited by her slave mentality, if she wanted to, she could've ruled the world forever and she would've been the only one with titan powers. It seems she has given her powers and special function to Eren. That means that Eren alone will be the special one and he will rule the world forever with only him having titan powers. 

She held all 9 titan powers, and as the only person in history to do so, she has the ability to view all of the other branches on the tree. Similar to how a shifter might be able to view the memories of a past shifter.... Ymir can view ALL of them, for all time. 

The devil needed a host for his dimension

That's her curse. Possibly bound by her loyalty to the King Fuck-Face-Fritz

you know PATHS, i ain't gonna explain that

THERE ARE MANY THEORIES ABOUT THE CENTISPINE'S QUALITIES—WHAT ARE YOURS? 579 Responses

A number of responses here ranging from the hilarious to the creepy; The centispine. A great many of you (We can’t tell if you’re serious or not…) are talking about Aliens, whilst others postulate that the thing results in parasitic possession, ALA Sekiro. 

A parasite thingy? Source of organic matter?

A power-bestowing parasite, hence why it needs to be eaten

Alien would be the easiest. But maybe the tree is actually Yggdrasil and its roots pass through other worlds. And the parasite is from another world.

alien/prehistoric being capable of phasing matter through dimensions

Aliens

ALIENS

Bruh its an organic life form/parasite, when bonded to a host ot provides them the titan ability

Don't think it's a biological, probably a mythical being inspired by Norse mythology

Eren will become the human centispine

For me  the most plausible is the fact that it resembles a living creature from our world who is supposed to create the whole world 300 millions ago or so

I believe its power weakens the more it divides. The power of each of the 9 current titans is nowhere near that of how powerful Ymir was after she first got the power.

I don't think we'll get any concrete explanation, but it's some creature with fifth-dimensional qualities that unwillingly merged with Ymir. I think the 9 main spines on the bottom on each side doesn't necessarily represent the amount of Titans but how divisible Ymir's power is before it becomes warped (mindless Titans). I also think of some level the idea of the parasite being connected to the Titan power is an inherent correlation that only exists because of Ymir. The idea of power = giant big monster seems like a very childlike concoction, and an antiquated one too. Since we know willpower and manifesting a goal in mind are part of the Power of the Titans I don't think it's too far-fetched that those specific powers came from Ymir herself, and the parasite merely made them possible on her physical plane of existence. This would seem to be at odds with its connection to being giant existing before Ymir made contact with it, due to the giant tree and my inferred connection with it and the giant trees on Paradis, but remember this thing exists outside time itself, it's a frankly unperceivable organism.

I don’t fucking know 

WHAT ARE YOU MOST HOPING TO SEE NEXT CHAPTER? 1,383 Responses

Next chapter starts off the the new volume, but what do you want to see in it?  28.1% want to see the full rumbling begin, 23.4% want to see how Eren’s titan transformation turns out, and 15.4% just want to see some action in Shiganshina.  For those who want the scene to change, 11.9% want to catch up with Levi and Hange, 8.2% want Annie, 4.4% want Historia, and 4.3% want even more historical info dumps.

ALL OF IT BRING IT ON ISAYAMA

Armin transforming into the colossal titan 

Death and suffering

Eren's master plan and more history hopefully

Full rumbling AND Levi and Hange.

i really look forward to see annie but what i really want to see is what is going to happen to the others (pieck, gabi, falco, reiner, etc etc)

Levi/Hange AND Annie. I feel like if Annie is going to ever return to the story, it'll be at a climax of some sort.

The hizuru lady piloting the boat-plane over Shiganshina

Lore, HISTORIA PLEASE I LOVE HER AND WANT TO SEE HER, Levi/Hange, Eren, and the immediate consequences of the Walls crashing down.

What the heck the plan actually is. For all we know, they could be uncovering the wall titans just to send the material that makes up their bodies back to Paths land. An Ymir/Eren hybrid titan could just have them hold still and spend the next years devouring them. We literally know nothing.

Somebody stopping Eren and bringing a sense of honor and morality(preferably Reiner, Armin or Gabi)

The ending Audio might be next chapter

WHERE DO YOU PRIMARILY DISCUSS THE SERIES? 1,309 Responses

Reddit continues to dominate the discussion field, comprising 52.4% of this vote alone. Tumblr, Facebook, and Youtube follow far behind, and 4 of you said Snapchat. That’s 0.3% of respondents, which is technically a low enough percentage to make sense, so maybe I should believe you guys, but I don’t.

ADDITIONAL THOUGHTS ON THE CHAPTER?

My thoughts on Eldia after reading this chapter: "Oh, so Marley really wasn't fabricating history with how ancient barbaric ancient Eldia was, especially with how ancient Eldia treated them. Can't blame Marley for putting that on the history books and using that as part of their propaganda. Considering that and what Marley is doing right now, it just adds to the moral grayness of the story.

Eyes have always told a story in SNK, whether it was the intention of a character (Zeke, Grisha, etc) or their true feelings (Levi). Eyes, and the lack thereof, in Ymir's backstory, told us that THAT was finally the real history. Until now we've always had someone else's warped perspective of history, but now we know how it actually was.

 Eren's not JUST a murderer and teenage terrorist, look, he also hugs kids! 

Ymir's backstory was a bit disappointing, I expected it to be more grey; Ymir is basically a poor girl who never did anything wrong and King Fritz is the big bad who seems to be the greatest jerk of the story; I don't think this fits with the ""the world is grey"" theme of the story at all, even Gross had at least something interesting to say

Amazing turn of events. Ymir deserves to be released from her enslavement. If the devil has to come out now that his plan is being foiled by Eren, I think Zeke can be a good host for him to incarnate as, justifying Levi killing Zeke as the final main villain of the story.

Definitely one of the best chapters of the overall series.

Annie...oh Annie... God knows how isayama is going to put her back into the plot now!

As much as I want to see Levi and Hange again, I really want to know more about Eren's plans. We still don't have a clear answer, but the part where Eren hugs Ymir makes this my favorite chapter.

Barely feels like the same series, but in a good way.

Brilliant payoff after having the action suddenly halted for multiple chapters. Shit  is finally going down. 

Eren and Ymir deserve to succeed and completely destroy the world. It’s already been corrupted too much for it to be fixed any other way at this point. This world was crafted by filthy, bloody hands and it’s about damn time for Eren & Ymir to break it down so it can be crafted by cleaner hands.

Eren and Ymir have done nothing wrong ever at all fite me

Eren best dad. I'd rumble a million worlds for him to hub me like that. Yelling right into my ear is just a bonus.

Possibly the greatest chapter. The last 3 chapters together could be the greatest side story in Attack on Titan. Isayama is just...I am at a loss for words. He's just the greatest. He just needs to finish the story on a high note and that's it. Even if he doesn't, this is one of the greatest manga and anime of all time.

People who have unquestioning trust in Eren aren't invited to my birthday party

Honestly, I loved it. It was so well executed and so goddamn interesting. I love how Isayama gives us *almost* all the information we need to piece the whole thing together and leaves just enough for us to have our own speculations. I just hope that they're all resolved at the end though considering there's probably only 4 chapters left at least. 

I cannot wait to see the last 5 pages of this chapter animated, easily one of my favorite set of pages from the whole series

I couldn’t have ever thought this was going to be the content of this chapter but I’m so glad it came out the way it did

I cried so much, I love the story

I honestly didn't care much for Ymir's backstory. But hopefully the Rumbling will make things more interesting

I think this chapter might have benefited from being two chapters.  There was so much information to absorb in a very short amount of time, I feel like a lot of questions weren't answered that probably never will be now like- why are there 9 human controlled titans?  How did the mindless titans factor in?  Why did Ymir die from the spear when Eren can have his head shot off?  Why did the other slaves turn on Ymir in the first place?  Where did she come from originally?  Was she captured? Born a slave?  There was I think a missed opportunity to develop her character a little more.  I get the idea of even the narrator not really caring about what she's experiencing but getting a little more insight into her perspective would have been really interesting.  

I read earlier that the closest creature of the devil are human beings .. but humans are more evil .. King Fritz represents the devil .. Thank you Isayama .. In our reality many demons already exist and I have one in my house .. In the corridor

I see a lot of people shitting on Zeke (even comparing him to that asshole king) for ordering Ymir around, but like.... he just heard Eren saying he will end the world (plus remember what Grisha said about Eren memories/intentions), he must be really panicking, so of course he would  desperatly shout orders to Ymir and insisting he's of royal blood, that's basically at the moment the only way he could try to stop Eren. And yes, that's not nice to Ymir, but still that doesn't put him on the same level as King Fritz at all.

I thought Gross was the epitome of evil. Then came Fritz. HOLY. FUCKING. SHIT. Don't tell me Ymir doesn't deserve a little payback after 2000 years as a slave.

So Zeke endorses genocide, but not Total World Destruction? Whatevs, man.

Sucks to be Gabi after killing Eren only for this to happen a second later.

I was kinda shocked when Eren, given the shitty way he treated Mikasa in ch 112, started comforting Ymir and telling her she's not a slave. I never realized Mikasa meant that little to him. What a fucking asshole.

I'm glad the question "is Eren going to activate the rumbling as a part of his plan?" was finally answered. I also finally made up my mind about Zeke and I now know I don't like him due to how he acted towards Ymir. I love that we finally learned about Ymir, and that both Marley's and Eldian Restorationists' versions of history were partially correct. I love that the devil was actually King Shitz and Ymir wasn't a goddess but a slave to the devil, but she still helped the Eldians develop and thrive. Also, I love how most of my theories were proven to be true this chapter. Overall I really liked it.

IT CanNoT bE sTopPeD aNymOre

What is interesting to me is that Ymir's legend seems to be the opposite of what women in history usually get: Often great women are forgotten or their agency is reduced only to that of a mother, lover, wife or daughter of some man. Whereas Ymir is remembered even after 2000 years as the Founder and forebear of Eldia, but in reality she didn't do any of those things on her free will. She was just one of the many who were enslaved and used by Eldia, yet she is celebrated by Eldian rebels as a symbol of its former greatness. Heck, even her last name, Fritz, isn't her own, but her abuser's. Chilling and fascinating.

it was fucking amazing. holy hell, i’m in TEARS after reading this latest chapter. it was so beautifully executed and drawn, and the walls crumbling deadass made me cRY OKAY-

It was incredibly tragic but the final portion somehow combined sweetness and epicness 

It's been over a week and I'm still reeling. This series gets better every month and I really don't want it to end

Ymir Fritz being presented as she is defied a couple of perceptions we've got from her: the books either implied she made a deal with the devil, or she was a benevolent goddess, when she was neither. Born as a girl from a ravaged tribe, she didn't have any voice, or agency, yet deep down she believed showing kindness was her way to make people happier after the damages of war. She accepted being fingerpointed if the other slaves could keep their eyes, she served the Eldian tribe with her newfound power, fought their wars, bore the king's children and took the final hit for him. Her spirit is then condamned to serve her line for eternity. Truly the most pitiable character of SnK so far.

 I found Ymir's story too strange to be attached to her and I was a little disappointed to see that there was basically nothing that had come from her own will. It would have been more interesting in terms of conflict to see if there had been reasons why she had done this, if there was something that prevented her from acting against the Eldians for any reason. But in fact she just let herself be guided by the flow again and again, and I do not feel it's a valid reason to let herself go for more than two thousand years.

Never thought I'd hate a character more than Floch and Sergeant Major Gross, but here we are…

The whole Ymir's backstory moved me a lot because I didn't expect it to be so sad and full of despair. Ymir is definitely the most tragic character in the whole story and one of the most tragic characters in the world of manga/anime. I hope she will finally get some love and will be surrounded by honest and loyal friends. Every tragic character in SnK deserves a hug but I think that she needs it the most. 

 this chapter's artwork really stood out to me. The way literally no eyes were present in the flashback, even the king's, and the expression of fury and agony on OG Ymir's face when Eren tells her she has a choice. Isayama just keeps getting better and better with his art, and some of his style choices really made me see the individual panels differently.

Predictable and necessary. About this poll and the fandom in general: is amazing how the mayority (or the loudest part) of this sub tends to take things in the most literal way possible while praising Isayama as a genius or something like that, or labeling as "subtle" things that scream "HELLO I'M HERE MY NAME IS BRIAN" at your face, or misread characters in the most extreme way

Ragnarok has started and I don't know if I should be excited or afraid

Read this together with Ch.121. Eren is such a well-developed complex character. You may not like him, but credit must be given to his amazing character building trip. GJ Isayama

IT'S HAPPENING! THIS MANGA MAY END IN LESS THAN A YEAR FROM NOW, AND WITH AN EPIC ENDING IF THE ENDGAME SO FAR IS ANY INDICATION. I DON'T KNOW HOW I FEEL ABOUT THIS, HELP

nothing to add, just amazing job from isayama